Much Ado about Quidditch
by athena-arena
Summary: Shakespearean style madness hits Hogwats to the background of an intense Quidditch tournament. Expect confusion, romance, comedy and lots of paraphrasing! r/r s'il vous plait!
1. Act I

A/N: MY GOD THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG! As you might have guessed from my delightfully unoriginal title, this is basically a massive paraphrasing of Much Ado about Nothing to the pure essence of brilliance that is Harry Potter. I'm hoping it'll work; though it may take sometime… rather inspired by my over-exposure to the works of the Bard on a school trip to Stratford (England everyone!) followed by an English lesson where I delved into my thoughts and came up with the title. Draco makes a perfect Don John! Whoo hoo!

Dis: I came up with nothing, not even the story line. That belongs to the bard, Characters to his modern equivalent in the world of Children's books, the god that is JK. And if anyone says otherwise, they'll have to deal with the wrath of the Ross. The teacher who sacrifices goats for Christmas. You have been warned…(evil Cackle…) I have on occasion quoted directly from a Shakespeare play, but just to confuse you, not just Much Ado. Spot the bit of Hamlet too! Also, the underpants gnomes are just a figment of twick's imagination… or that of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. Don't ask me how I got that one in. _Phase one, collect underpants…_

This is dedicated to all the bard lovers out there… you know who you are.

****

Much ado about Quidditch!

ACT ONE

Harry was going to have the best summer ever: He was going back to Hogwarts. He was the first one to arrive, and that was deliberate. It was early morning and he had flown through the night, much to Sirius' objection, on his beloved Firebolt covered in the invisibility cloak, and reached the school in the early hours allowing him to view Hogwarts in an unusual light. He'd never seen it empty of it's students: The halls filled with mere ghostly images of his fellow pupils rushing to get to their next class, only they were in his mind. As he heard his footsteps echoing down the hall, he realised how much he loved it.

Harry at last felt at peace. He sighed heavily as he walked up to his dormitory in the Gryffindor tower, dragging his trunk behind him. Although term didn't start for another month at least, he was going to spend a couple of weeks basking in its safety. After the disastrous events that had marred his fourth year with the triwizard tournament, Dumbledore had thought an intensive Quidditch competition would cheer up the troops and make up for the lack of wizard sport over the past twelve months. Harry had felt excited, then nervous, ecstatic, then nauseous. He hadn't played Quidditch for a year and didn't know whether he was still any good. The Hogwarts pitch had been the scene of the third task and so was scarred by the memories that came with Voldemort's return. Secondly, the Gryffindors lacked a keeper as Oliver Wood had left the previous year and now was steadily advancing his career with Puddlemere United. That also left a void in the captain department. Harry did wonder at times whether it was worth all the hassle.

Indeed even Sirius had been sceptical. Harry had in fact seen him several times since the third task: He'd come disguised as Padfoot to visit Harry at Privet Drive, carefully hidden among the cherry trees at the bottom of the garden so Aunt Petunia didn't try to get the RSPCA onto him. His godfather was naturally concerned over Harry's state of mind after his encounter the previous summer, but was forced to admit defeat in the face of Harry's enthusiasm. Harry had obviously proven his worth.

All too soon however, the other students began to arrive. With no uniform restrictions, it appeared muggle clothes were the order of the day, and Harry was grateful that with his return he was able to place every enchantment he could think of upon his second hand rags to make them vaguely respectable. Dudley's clothes had never fitted him. He felt his stomach churn as he descended into the grounds to greet his friends: He hadn't really seen or heard from them since the end of term, each and everyone absorbed in their own thoughts that to disturb Harry's would be the ultimate crime. 

'Harry!' he heard a familiar cry. Ron came running up to him across the grass wet with morning dew and almost knocking him over with the force of his impact. He was obviously overjoyed to see him. 

'Hey Ron!' Harry said happily as he embraced his friend. 'How are things?'

'Oh. Fine, fine!' he cried 'Bill came home for the summer again and Percy had to go to a conference in Transylvannia so it's been peaceful for once. You can only debate Caldron Thickness so many times you know!'

'Well, he's running the department now so I expect he's busy…'

Ron rolled his eyes 'Yes, he's rushed off his feet, but somehow saves the time to bore us poor souls to death with all his antics.'

'I still think we should have locked him in the pyramid when he had the chance.'

This was the voice of Ron's brother Fred, who was shortly joined by his twin George at Harry's side. Always the mischief-makers, Harry thought. 

'This is going to be great!' he cried, waving his broomstick excitedly over his head. 'Two solid weeks of Quidditch! Whoo hoo!'

'I wonder who's going to be keeper?' muttered Ron wishfully.

'Haven't eloped with Fleur Delacoeur yet then Ron?'

Hermione's voice was as distinct as ever: She had wandered over to join them but was staring at Ron angrily, her arms folded defensively across her chest.

'Oh hello Herm,' Ron replied sarcastically 'Managed to spare some time in your busy schedule to give us the honour of your company?'

'I don't know why I bother…' she continued. 'I don't even like Quidditch that much.'

These words were like poison to Ron's ears, which turned pink in response.

'Then why bother? You could have spent the summer skinny dipping with your beloved Krum instead. Much better use of time.'

Now it was Hermione's turn to get herself a rosy glow.

'That's none of your business Ron,' she muttered 'And for your information I did go, and it was lovely.'

'I suppose you've set the wedding date then?'

'Harry, will you tell your insolent little friend here that me and Victor are just good friends.'

Harry had barely opened his mouth when Ron shot down a nasty reply.

'Harry, will you tell this excuse for a girl that I don't really care?'

And with that, both parties turned abruptly as sat at opposite ends of the Gryffindor table, scowling.

'And what was that about???'

'Search me. They've been like it all summer. I reckon the lady doth protest too much…'

'Huh?'

Harry was unable to think any more of George's unusual reply before he was swept back by the ever growing crowd into the depths of the great hall. Harry almost felt he'd returned from a victorious battle: The crowds around him smiled favourably as they made their way to the great hall, where Dumbledore would address them with the outline of the next two weeks. As they stood waiting expectantly, the old man shuffled before them as great as ever, yet the stress of the summer's events showing behind those half moon glasses, despite the twinkle remaining.

'Hello everybody!' He said, looking over the hall with fondness, 'And welcome back to Hogwarts for two weeks of Madness and Mayhem! We are attempting a feat never done in the history of the school: Fit the Quidditch season into two measly weeks. I hope you are all up for the challenge! You will be gallantly supported no doubt by your particular houses, and I expect some quality Quidditch to be played on our newly refurbished pitch! Now I expect you are all in need of a mighty fine breakfast, so please tuck in!'

The food appeared at once upon the house tables where Harry was now sitting, next to Ron and Neville Longbottom who straightaway managed to topple over the milk jug. Harry had to suppress a giggle as poor Neville attempted to mop up the mess. Ron was obviously in the same position, his sniggers making his shoulders shake with the effort of holding them in. Hermione merely snorted and produced some tissues to help mop up. 

'Ron…' Neville said nervously, his eyes darting round the table in case anyone was listening, 'Has your sister come back with you at all?'

'What, Ginny?' exclaimed Ron, almost spraying the table with his cereal. Hermione turned in disgust of Ron's immature reaction and began a deep conversation with Lavender Brown. 'She's just over there. Why, dare I ask?'

'It's just that… well…' Neville began to stutter 'I was wondering if she was seeing anyone right now, you know, don't you?'

'Sorry. You've lost me.'

Neville looked even more timid at the thought of any further explanation. 'I just wondered… in case I was to ask her out…'

'What?' bellowed Ron, so loudly that Harry jumped and was alerted to the content of their conversation. 'You as well? What is it with this love bug thing? I hope it's not catching! Urgh, what a thought… Well, I'm sure she's a nice enough girl, but I don't know, she's my sister! I mean, if it was someone like Hermione I might understand. She might be OK if she wasn't so bitter and twisted. But I really can't comment on the sister thing. Personal taste I suppose…'

'Neville!' Harry exclaimed 'Why didn't you tell us?'

'Well…' he replied, looking as pale as a sheet now his secret was out 'I was scared you know? Ron could've lynched me for all I knew.'

Ron simply grinned.

'Do you think you could put in a good word for me Harry? She'd listen to you.'

'I'll try. No guarantees though.'

Harry them turned silently and finished his beans on toast. The confrontations of the day had given him much pause for thought.

*

As fate would have it, the afternoon training sessions brought with it some unexpected but highly welcomed news. As well as Ron now joining the ranks of his brother's as the team's new keeper, Harry had been given the delight of captaining the side, apparently at Wood's request. 

'Oliver said you'd be the best man for the job, Potter,' said Professor McGonagall, who had come out to oversee their practise 'and I hope you do him justice.' 

The rest of the team obviously approved, as they whooped and clapped in celebration and Alicia, Katie and Angelina went on to give their best practise yet. Harry despite his initial reservations didn't find the task as daunting as first thought: His team was talented and responsive to his command and he began to ponder why Wood had made such a fuss.

'He was a control freak that's why,' said Angelina as she got the quaffle through the hoop from the fifty yard line, 'But hey, we loved him all the same. Ron's looking promising though.'

And she was right. Harry had never really seen Ron play Quidditch without the restrictions the muggle world put upon it, but he was obviously a natural. The majority of Katie Bell's attempt to get past him often resulted in the quaffle ending up anywhere but through the hoop. He was like a human wall.

'Well, I hate to say this, but our first match might just be in the bag.' Harry ducked as George and Fred hit the Bludgers in his general direction at the use of a wood-esque phrase 'We've got Ravenclaw tonight and as long as we stick to the plan, it'll be a clean sweep.' 

At this point, he frowned as he saw a rare sight: Hermione was sitting in the stands watching intensely: Her book laying forgotten on the chair beside her, mesmerised by the Gryffindor practise, and Ron in particular, the scowl on her face unmistakable. Harry shrugged it off as they went into the showers but stopped George and Fred for a quick consultation.

'So what exactly happened over the summer with Ron and Hermione? I know they bicker but I've never seen them like this…'

'Oh,' said Fred, his eyes glistening menacingly 'There was a little bit of an incident…'

'Some crossed over Owls…'

'Which might have had something to do with us…'

'… or not'

'You know us, anything to help ickle Ronniekins…'

'But anyway Ron accidentally received a letter that was supposed to be for Krum…'

'Which said why Hermione was breaking it all off…'

'And he got the wrong end of the stick.'

'Basically, Ron and Hermione got a little friendly as a consequence but it all went a tad sour…'

'Such as Herm found some of Ron's old letters to Fleur…'

'And that was the end of that.'

'They've been re-enacting world war three ever since.'

Harry stood there for a moment, unable to utter a word. He always suspected Ron likes Hermione more than he would let on, but this was ridiculous. Why didn't he tell him? He sighed heavily at the stupidity of his two friends. They had now showered and changed, wandering out of the Quidditch grounds as the Slytherins began their practise slot. He could see Ron ahead in the distance, in the midst of yet another blazing row with Hermione. The twins glanced over at Harry and rolled their eyes. Suddenly, Harry's face broke into it's biggest grin it had seen for a long time, one that lit up is face like a lantern and caused his companions to turn and stare.

'What are you so happy about all of a sudden?' snapped Fred as he saw Hermione eventually give up and stop off in the direction of Hagrid's hut.

'I've just had an idea…'

*

Draco Malfoy was not a happy bunny. He thought he'd have a good holiday, at the centre of it all, his father, now back with You-know-who was bound to have some interesting news about the uprising. But no such luck. He'd barely settled in before he got called back to this dump for some stupid Quidditch tournament. Draco wasn't particularly good at Quidditch, although he never admitted it to himself. His position as seeker on the Slytherin team was only secure as long as his father kept pumping the money. Draco remained on the sidelines at practise, polishing his Nimbus 2001 professionally, checking it for any fault, anything at all that would put him at a disadvantage. He was a perfectionist. The rest of the team wasn't bothered with his absence from the air. They were all too absorbed in their battle of tactics: Each one so dominating, so ambitious, that despite the captain being clearly defined by their head of house, Snape, each and every one of them wanted a slice of the cake. Draco sighed heavily and continued to polish.

'Draco?'

It was the voice of Vincent Crabbe, one of his, supposed friends. Draco didn't like Crabbe much: He was so sickeningly stupid that he really wondered how he managed to breathe sometimes. Goyle was just as bad, but that suited Draco down to the ground: He didn't need friends. As soon as he was out of school, before that even, he'd join his father and then would be in the company of all the friends he'd ever need. But that was a long way off. For now, he'd just have to put up with it.

'What is it now, Crabbe…' he said with his usual scowl 'Goyle hidden a whoopee cushion in your bed again?'

'No actually. I've just overheard something rather interesting.'

Draco waited for Crabbe to continue, but he didn't. He just stood there like an expectant puppy dog, waiting for praise top be bestowed upon him lavishly.

'Are you actually going to tell me or just stand there like the idiot you are?'

'Sorry, sorry…' he muttered before sitting down next to Draco 'It's just I was at breakfast today when I overheard Longbottom telling Potter that he fancied the pants off Ginny Weasley…'

'Yuck!' squealed Draco, disgusted by the thought 'Longbottom getting a girlfriend? What a horrible thought. Nice work Crabbe.'

Now Crabbe looked as if he'd got the bone. He grinned stupidly.

'I could really use this. Hmmm.' He was silent for a moment, deep in thought. 'Did you hear anything else?'

'Well, I think Potter is going to talk to the Weasley girl about it after the match tonight, probably at the Gryffindor celebration party. I think they're being just a tad over-confident. Hope it's more like a commiseration do. He he.'

Draco wasn't listening to Crabbe's banter. The plan begun to formulate in his mind, and he grinned mischievously as he finalised it.

'I think, Crabbe,' he began 'We're going to have a little fun…'

*

A/N: Any queries, I refer you to the additional author's note, and naturally the little box below. Review is right up there with university acceptance letters: Its horrible waiting for the post!


	2. Act II

A/N: Harry Potter meets the bard in this Hogwarts version of Much ado about nothing. Will make no sense whatsoever if you don't read the first part, and the additionally author's note is highly recommended. Read and Review s'il vous plait!

Dis: JK owns the characters, Shakespeare owns the plot, I own the concept. Just read it!

****

Much Ado about Quidditch!

ACT II

As much as Crabbe wished for a Gryffindor defeat, in fact he got the opposite. With the absence of Cho Chang through injury and being on the other side of the world, the Gryffindors stormed in with an outstanding victory that gained a standing ovation. It put them in good stead for the rest of the tournament, and Harry was beaming as he left the pitch, covered head to toe in mud, as captain of the winning side.

'You coming?' said Ron over the noise of the roaring crowd 'I don't want you turning up to the celebration party smelling like that!'

'Yeah, just a minute…' he saw Neville's face in the crowd looking at him eagerly as Ginny began to wander over. 'I just need a word with your sister first.'

'Oh, right…' said Ron, nodding his head as he got the hint. He disappeared into the tunnel.

'Harry, you were brilliant!' screamed the youngest Weasley, giving Harry a big hug.

'Whoa, need to breathe!' Harry said weakly, Ginny let go and went pink with embarrassment. 'Sorry Harry, Got a little carried away there. I heard you wanted to talk to me.'

'Yeah, somewhere a bit more quiet though.'

Ginny suddenly looked mortified 'If it's about that Valentine's card last year, then I'm sorry. I've grown out of that… phase.'

'Look, it's nothing to do with that. I just need to tell you something.'

'Alright.'

As they left the ground through the ever-growing crowd, Neville looked hopefully from afar. He had always liked Ginny, even if she was a year longer than he was. She liked him enough to go to the Yule ball with him. And he'd lost a lot of weight over the summer; his round face a little more defined when combined with a growth spurt. His grandmother said he was the image of his father. That thought made him more confident. He was in such a dreamy state that he failed to notice Draco Malfoy sit next to him

The unexpected voice made Neville jump and turn in his seat. When his eyes met with the pale grey shade of Draco's, he immediately turned and tried to say calm. He expected Malfoy to start it again. That boy had bullied him for years. It made him feel sick just to sit next to him. However, Draco was not taking any notice, just continuing a loud conversation with his cronies Crabbe and Goyle.

'Hey, look at Potter!' he suddenly bellowed, pointing to where Harry was deep in conference with Ginny. 'Looks like you were right, Goyle…'

'Told ya Potter fancied that one. I mean look, he's cuddling her now…'

Neville looked up and saw that Goyle was right. Horribly right. Harry had his arm draped round Ginny's shoulder, their backs to where he was sitting, their heads dangerously close together. Neville felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. Why would Harry do this to him? He couldn't stand it. He began to tremble. Soon he could bear it no longer and so stormed out of the grounds, trying to hide his tears that were now gracing his face. He didn't hear the rest of the Slytherin's conversation.

'Worked like a dream, Crabbe.'

'Well, you thought of it.'

'Did you see Longbottom's face! It was a picture! God, I was almost crying with the effort of trying not to laugh!'

Goyle did not reply as the giggles got to him, now rolling around on the floor. They all them roared with laughter, a noise that rang in Neville's ears all the way to the Gryffindor tower.

*

Ron was sitting on the steps of the great hall in a foul mood. Normally he thrived on a good Quidditch match, and his debut had gone off in more spectacular style than he could possibly imagine. He'd barely let a single quaffle past his speedy eye, much to the shock of the Ravenclaw seekers who were obviously expecting an easy match. He smiled to himself slightly as the commentator's voice echoed through his memory…

__

'And Wood passes the Quaffle out to Stevens, nice bludger wok by Weasley…Oh god I've got to start numbering them now…too much red hair on the pitch…anyway, Stevens knocked slightly off course, but Ravenclaw still in possession, quaffle now with McDonald as he streams up the left wing, look at him go… he prepares to shoot…but Weasley blocks it! That must be a spectacular save by Gryffindor's new boy! Great start Ron!'

It had been a great start. But it was marred by that stupid know-it-all Hermione. Since the hormones had kicked it she'd really gone off on one. He'd thought Hermione more sensible than that. It made his blood boil the thought of all the things she'd winged about over the years, the constant nagging, the annoying comebacks, the answers for everything… he really was wondering how he'd put up with it for so long. Even as he came off the pitch for his first victorious outing as Gryffindor keeper, she was dangerously scathing. He'd heard her telling Parvati in a really loud and obnoxious voice how he was probably on the team for comic value. The house jester, she'd said. The comments rang in his ears as he remembered…

'Sure, Harry and his brothers find him amusing enough,' she was saying to the gaggle of girls, 'But as for everyone else, I don't know whether his particular brand of sarcasm makes then want to hug him or hit him. I swear he's getting more annoying with age…'

Parvati had been quite defensive. 'I think he's alright Herm…' she dared to stutter. 'Don't you think you're a little harsh on him? What would he say if he knew all this?'

'Ah, it wouldn't bother him in the slightest. Brush it off with another legendary comeback. You know our Ronniekins….'

But it did bother him. And all this business of Neville and his sister! He didn't really object, but why did everyone feel the need to get coupled up? He sighed heavily as he stood up and began to head up to the inevitable celebration party.

'If I ever get into that lovey-dovey stuff…' he muttered to himself, 'Please shoot me in the head!'

However he'd barely had time to turn around before he heard voices approaching. He instantly recognised them as that of Harry and his brothers. Not wanting to face another nagging session for not being at the party, he quickly hid himself behind the Suit of armour in the entrance hall as Harry, George and Fred chose to sit down. He was stuck there. Nevertheless, the topic of their conversation made him freeze instantly to the spot.

'Hey, you'd never guess what we heard yesterday Harry…'

'What?'

'Well, apparently our little Hermione's got the hots for little Ronniekins.'

'Blimey! I didn't see that one coming…'

Suddenly the boys heard a little gasp come from behind the suit of armour. Harry found it exceedingly difficult to suppress his giggles as he and the twins continued their conversation as loudly as possible.

'Ginny says she won't shut up about him. I think it's beginning to get on her nerves.'

'Well,' sighed Harry as he sat back in his seat, still grinning, 'You know what Hermione's like when she gets a bee in her bonnet. Seems to add up though, if you think about it. All that bickering is probably an act…'

Ron couldn't breathe. He had to lean back against the wall for support, as so was the shock of this revelation. He'd thought that the summer was simply one big misunderstanding. He tried to keep still, but it was getting harder by the minute. Hermione fancied him? He wouldn't believe it normally, coming from his mischievous brothers, but Harry and Ginny would never fall for it. _It must be true,_ he thought as he screwed up his eyes, _oh god…_

In the meanwhile, Fred gave Harry a wink; the plan was going like clockwork.

'Do you think she'll ever get round to doing anything about it?' Harry asked genuinely

'Oh, god, no!' cried George, suddenly standing at the outrage of such a suggestion, 'Ginny says that she'd die if Ron ever knew the truth! Think of the embarrassment factor…'

'Through the roof…' added Fred for extra effect 'Stubborn as a mule, our Hermione. Would never admit to such a weakness. Ginny says her pining is getting pathetic now. Such a sad sight…'

'Apparently she'd been writing love letter and everything,' chirped in George, the mischief sparkling in his eyes. 'You know, really soppy ones. Oh Ronny, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways!'

George was now clearly taking the Mickey. He had his hand over his heart, his foot resting upon the stone bench and the other hand aloft with the dramatic style of a classic Shakespearean actor. Fred's whole body was convulsing with the effort of concealing his hysteria as George continued to deliver his performance.

'But then -or so Ginny tells me- she falls onto her bed and openly weeps for hours on end at the pure horror of her predicament! Poor kid. I wouldn't wish my brother on anybody. Stupid good for nothing git. He wouldn't know a good thing if it punched him in the face…'

'Ahem!'

The boys paused, just for a moment, as Ron unleashed his outrage at such a suggestion unexpectantly from his hiding place. George, Fred and Ron exchanged knowing glances but continued nevertheless. Ron was able to release a silent sigh of relief.

'Probably just Peeves…' George muttered loudly.

'Anyway, we really should be getting to the party,' said Fred getting up ton join his brother 'It won't get going until we've got there!'

'You guys go ahead…I need to put my Firebolt in the broomshed.' 

And with that, Harry disappeared out the door, the boys up the stairs, and Ron fell straight onto the floor in a faint. He was dazed, confused…mystified! Hermione really liked him. He could laugh out loud. Hermione _fancied _him. When the hell did that happen? She just seemed to yell at him all the time, boss him about and stuff. But fancy him? That was just insane. He had been jealous of her and Krum. That guy was four years older than her. Couldn't he find someone his own age? Hermione was, as much as she'd protest about this, quite delicate. She was easily upset. And Ron couldn't deny that he felt sickened every time he saw her in a flight of tears. It didn't suit her. He always pictured her with a face alive with a dazzling smile that lit up any room she was in, no matter how gloomy. Come to think of it, he'd always liked her smile…

He shook his head as if to expel the thought out of his head. So what if she liked him? It didn't matter. But she sounded so miserable. He hated that. If only he could do something about it. Well, he could always… no that wouldn't be a good idea. Hermione was his friend. But on the other hand, she wasn't too bad looking, especially after her teeth were shrunk and she began using that hair potion a bit more often. He could put up with it. But what was he thinking? This was Hermione he was taking about. His head was going round in circles, the idea milling around and settling in like the day into the definitive night. He sighed heavily as he began the decent to the Gryffindor tower and slipped past the fat lady. He'd wait and see.

*

The party, although not the first for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, was just as mad and raucous as ever. The Weasley twins had obviously struck some sort of deal with the house-elves before hand, as Harry had barely set foot in the common room before a plate of custard creams were shoved under his nose by an ecstatic George. Knowing better than to accept food from his mischievous teammate, he promptly handed one to Ginny, who instantly turned into a Canary in a flash of yellow feathers.

'Well, someone had to do it I suppose,' she sighed, yet again being on the receiving end of one of her brother's jokes and examining her glorious feathers, ignoring the laughter. 'It wouldn't be the same otherwise.'

'Right on sister!' Fred yelled over the loud music now coming from some sort of device hooked up by their partner in crime, Lee Jordan. AS Ginny moved away, malting already across the common room carpet, Harry just grinned at them all and prepared to join the fray. 

Hermione was laughing full-heartily with the Gryffindor chasers, throwing her head back without a sign of restraint. It couldn't be said that the events of the previous year unleashed her inhibitions: instead of shrinking further behind her books, it seemed to imply that for her now, actions spoke louder than words. She was growing up. Harry began to edge over to her as she continued a loud and raucous conversation with Alicia Spinnet.

'… Yeah, that Draco is one miserable sod. Did you see him and the other Slytherins today?' Alicia was saying. 'I couldn't tell if they were smirking or sulking.'

'Definitely not one of life's happy souls….' Quipped in Angelina, who was next to Alicia.

'Ah,' said Hermione cheekily with some hidden insight. 'He has that air of mystery about him, you know…' the chasers looked at her, dismayed. She cottoned on. 'Oh, god no! What I mean is some people, some people, find that quite alluring. Then we've got our typical simpleton, Ron.' Harry rolled his eyes. Here we go… 'Good on the comedy but that's all you get. With Malfoy you have to put up with the constant miseries. I swear I've never seen that guy smile. Good for nothing little runt that he is…'

This was guaranteed to get Harry to smile as he finally entered the conversation.

'So what you're saying Herm' he added, 'Is that if you sling Ron's comic genius…'

'Unimaginative use of sarcasm' she interjected. The girls giggled.

'OK, that with a bit of mystery ala Malfoy, and we've got your perfect man, Frankenstein style.'

'Ah,' she waggled her finger. 'Sprinkle the concoction with a good dose of looks and something that comes close to resembling a brain and you've got yourself my love potion. '

Harry sighed at Hermione's fussiness. 'Not asking for much, are you?'

'Well,' she smiled, 'I always set myself high targets.'

'But honestly Hermione…' interrupted Angelina, 'you're asking for perfection personified with that ingredients list. You're condemning yourself for Singleton city.'

Hermione didn't look perplexed by this notion. She shrugged. 'It's no big deal. I mean, come on! Can you imagine me trying to have a conversation with a bimbo like Crabbe? Urgh, what a thought… He communicates in grunts he passes up as an excuse for English.' Her face was screwed up in distaste. 'And he looks as if he had a nasty accident with the back end of a bus, the poor git. Sorry, but of its between that and the holier life, then get me to a nunnery, quick!'

'Forever the spinster…' Harry muttered. He glanced up at Hermione and shook his head, laughing. 'You're getting more and more like McGonagall everyday.'

'Hey!' Hermione cried out. 'That's not such a bad thing!'

It was at this point Ron entered the room, looking rather startled. Harry had to suppress a snigger as he stepped into the party, his eyes darting around nervously before Hermione finally caught up with him. Her face went from mirth to a form of affectionate revulsion in one fail swoop. He almost jumped a foot in the air as she poked him in the shoulder.

'Decided to show your face then?'

'Why…' he began. He then turned and saw Hermione, his face flushed as he struggled to find the words. 'Hey Herm. How are you?'

If she was startled by the lack of comeback, she didn't show it. 'Well, since you hadn't turned up I thought you'd decided to guard Harry's Firebolt from the underpants gnomes who steal your boxers every night.'

Those around her laughed a little and gathered to see the show. But for the first time in his life, Ron failed to deliver. He simply stood there and looked impassive. Hermione was getting frustrated.

'Look, the only reason I'm bothering to talk to you is because your brothers want a word.'

Harry, who'd stepped back from the conversation, glanced over as George and Fred. They were creasing up. However they did manage a wink in his general direction.

'Well, thank you for telling me Herm.' Ron said fondly 'I guess I'll be seeing you.'

And with that, Hermione tuned on her heel, obviously too confused for words, and left Ron standing in the corner of the common room, the crowd now parting with an air of disappointment.

'I'd better see what they want.' Ron muttered.

Harry nodded and grinned at the twins, who were now crying with the effort of holding in their laughter. Now he finally got up to dance. The party was just as wild as ever, and Harry had almost forgotten all the trickery until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Not a friendly one, but a harsh stab that actually stung so much that Harry span round prepared to yell his protests when he came face to face with Neville.

'Oh… hey!' he said, beginning to smile while Neville's face was set in an unusual frown 'Have you seen Ginny yet? I spoke to her for you and…'

'Yes, I saw.' Spat Neville, fire flashing in his eyes. 'And I know exactly what you're playing at.'

At this point Hermione had caught on and wandered over to join Harry and Neville.

'Hey Neville, what's up with you?'

'Him. The wonderful Harry Potter. The god of the Quidditch pitch who thinks he can rule to roost. Well, I've got news for you. You can't go round taking other people's girls and…'

His eyes narrowed towards Harry and both of them appeared baffled. Hermione was about to protest when Ginny came over to join them with a huge grin across her face.

'What I was trying to say…' said Harry over the din, pushing Ginny forward, 'Was that I spoke to Ginny and I think she wants a word.'

The piercing look that had smothered Neville's face faded as Ginny smiled coyly, taking his hand and leading him out of the common room. Harry sighed with relief for Neville not punching the living daylights out of him in a fit of falsely based jealously and sat down on the sofa. Hermione joined him and seemed just as weary. 

'Another one bites the dust,' she sighed. 'Everyone's getting paired up now. With Dean and Lavender and Parvati smitten with Seamus, I'm seriously running out of options!'

'Hey, I don't think you need to worry about that,' Harry said fondly, ruffling her hair. 'I'm always a last resort you know.'

Hermione smiled slightly and looked at Harry with knowing eyes. He immediately regretted opening his big stupid mouth. She didn't pick up on it.

'What, and have to put up with you going off and getting yourself killed all the time? No offence Harry, but it just won't do. How about Dudley? I'm sure he's a stunner…'

Harry couldn't suppress the grin as he punched Hermione playfully on the arm. She got up, stretched and looked at her watch.

'My god, it that the time? I'd better get to bed. Early session in the library tomorrow.'

'Honestly Hermione, it's the holidays…'

'You can never start too early!'

And with that she disappeared out the doorway and up the stairs to the girl's dormitory out of sight. Harry sat and thought deeply for a moment, and then got up himself to seek out Lavender and Parvati. It was time to put the second part of the plan into action. 

*

A/N OK, going alright so far… any queries to the additional author's note (If you can't find it, its posted under my pen name, athena_arena (Don't for get the underscore!) and reviews cherished like little tostie toppers. Please keep your arms inside the carriage and proceed to Act III…


	3. Act III

A/N: Yes, yes we get the drift now… JK meets Will Shakespeare in this massive paraphrasing of the comedy classic much ado. Imagine Draco Malfoy in tight black leather trousers doing his evil bidding and you get… totally the wrong idea. Anyway, read the other parts first and the additional author's note to get the full picture. R/R as usual please!

Dis: I own the concept, the bard owns the plot, JK owns the characters. The way it always is, really, isn't it? Aw well, I can dream…

****

Much Ado about Quidditch 

ACT III

When Hermione scrambled into bed, her ears still ringing with the noise of the music a few feet below, she knew that sleep was only a distant possibility. It always was. She was a chronic insomniac, an unwelcome trait she inherited from her father, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd ever slept before midnight and not seen the dial of her illuminated clock until a reasonable hour of the morning. Instead she lay back in bed, hidden from the world by the massive drapes of her four-poster bed, and simply stared into its canopy in a thoughtful daze. She didn't even hear Lavender and Parvati come in until their voices brought her back to reality.

'That was a great party, wasn't it?' said Lavender, clambering into bed and finally blowing out the last candle.

'Yeah. Oh you'd better put that candle back on, I don't think Hermione's back yet.'

They had no way of telling otherwise, Hermione thought sadly. She wasn't a very trusting soul: As fond as she was of Lavender and Parvati, they were known for their gossiping natures, so with a complex combination of charms she'd rigged up a security system around her bed tighter than fort Knox. So they knew better than to check.

They were silent for a while. Normally their gossip after a Quidditch match went right into the night, doing little to improve Hermione's chance of a decent night's kip. But tonight their silence seemed awkward, forced even and kept her intrigued. Finally it was broken.

'Seamus is so dreamy, isn't he?' 

Hermione had to silence her weary sigh. She'd heard this conversation a million times. However for now it took such an unexpected change she almost fell right out of bed.

'You'd never guessed what he said to me tonight…'

'Go on'

Their voices became more hushed. Hermione had to sit at the edge of her bed to hear

'Well according to Seamus, Ron Weasley is completely smitten with old bossy boots over there…'

'What, Hermione?'

'Got it in one.'

She had to suppress her shock and surprise with all the energy she could muster at that late hour as the words sunk into her weary brain. Ron fancied her? She had to hear more…

'Well to be honest with you, it was pretty damn obvious since the Yule ball. But he'd really wasting his time over there you know.'

'What makes you say that?'

That was the question now doing laps in Hermione's head. She edged closer.

'Well, she'd just tear him to shreds, the poor lad. I mean Ron isn't that bad you know.' Lavender giggled 'I mean those freckles are quite cute…'

'Don't let Dean hear you say that!' Parvati squealed. They were really enjoying this.

'But you know what I'm getting at. Hermione is too wrapped up in herself and her schoolwork to care for Ron. She's going to break his heart when she finds out…'

'Ah, but according to Seamus, they've been trying to get him to do that for years. No luck. Typical male really. Can't face the dirty work.'

'I doubt she would believe it either. Someone really should warn the guy exactly what he's getting into. Hermione can be a right she-devil you know.'

'I'll second you on that. Love her and all, but at times she can be a right pain in the…'

Hermione had stopped listening. Ron fancied her? Certainly an interesting turn of the events. So there _must _have been something behind the great summer mix up. Oh god, she felt so awful. She'd been so cruel to him and the poor guy had done nothing wrong. Hermione rolled over and hid her face in her pillow, screwing up her eyes in embarrassment and dread. The silently groaned as the ongoing conversation began to fade into satisfied snores. Of course, Parvati and Lavender were notorious gossips, but Seamus certainly wasn't. He was too quiet. Or was that manipulative? Hermione scowled at herself for her own suspicious nature. She was, for a reason she couldn't explain, certain that what was spoken was the truth. The events of the past four years flashed before her sleepy eyes in a haze of visions: Ron's bravery in the face of the giant chessmen. His face screwed up in fear and concern at the Quidditch world cup. The nighttime visits during her various hospital wing stays. He really did like her. I mean, it wasn't such a bad idea. She'd always thought those freckled were cute… no! She pushed her face further into the pillow with the stupidity of the thought. But it continued to niggle at the back of her mind right up until the dawn of the next morning… 

*

'Damn!'

The voice that uttered these words carried right across the Slytherin common room, causing many of its resident's look up in slight astonishment before returning to their nighttime activity. The common room was unusually quiet, subdued in the light of their impending opening match against the Hufflepuffs. But in the mind of Draco Malfoy, it was far from that. His mind was racing.

'You mean that Red head freak actually likes the fat kid?' he muttered in disbelieve. Crabbe nodded his head as Draco hit the table with his fist, almost toppling his inkpot.

'I'm afraid so. Some people just don't have any taste.'

'Shut up Goyle. We can still split up the Gryffindor dream team yet. We can't have them doing 'the sound of music' on us, can we? No dancing in the mountains for Harry and co. They need to be distracted otherwise we have no hope of winning the Quidditch tournament.'

He sat there and thought for a moment. His eyes drifted across the room until they finally settled on Millicent Bulstrode, who glanced up from her book, giggled at a bumbling Goyle and continued reading, blushing a furious shade of red. She was totally smitten.

'Perfect.'

*

After a fast and furious Hufflepuff and Slytherin game a few days later, seeing the Hufflepuff squad get the stuffing punched out of them by the meaner, leaner Slytherins, The Quidditch teams and their supporters were taking advantage of their lesson free schedule and sneaked out to Hogsmeade. It was a beautiful place in the summer, alive with flowers filling the air with the scent of honeysuckle, making the main street seem like a haze of warmth and light. Even the pavement seemed to sparkle. While in typical style the Weasley twins headed straight to Zonko's, Harry and Ron went for a warm butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks despite the stifling heat. They took up residence on a table outside and were soon joined by a happy looking Neville, who had somehow managed to detach himself long enough from Ginny's side to hold a decent conversation.

'Set the wedding date yet mate?' said Ron, patting Neville on the back.

'I think you're jumping the gun a little there, Ron…' he muttered in reply, but refusing to meet his girlfriend's brother's eyes. Ron picked up on this.

'Nev, I'm not going to lynch you. Ginny's a big girl now, I don't care who she dates. I don't know about Percy though…'

The three of them laughed at the memory of Ron's elder brother, with his head boy badge polished to perfection. Ron ran his fingers though his hair and sighed heavily.

'Oh, you're the weary one this morning, aren't you?' said Neville, his eyes flashing mischievously. 'Have you been up all night or something?'

'You know what I reckon…' said Harry, leaning in closer to truly wind Ron up. 'I think our little Ronniekins has been bitten by the love bug.'

'No!' said Ron, a little too sharply. Harry grinned. 'No, I just, just, I'm worried about the Hufflepuff game, that's all.'

'Oh come off it Ron,' Harry said, slamming down his glass 'We'll steam-roll them if the last match was anything to go by. Are you sure there's nothing you want to tell us?'

'I've just got a headache that's all…'

'Wait a minute…' said Harry, sniffing the air suddenly. 'Is that after shave?'

Ron's ears went pink. He quickly finished his drink and mumbled something about finding his brothers at Zonko's

'It is, isn't it?' squeaked Neville with the excitement of a naughty schoolgirl, 'You are ya trying to impress there, Ron?'

Soon Ron slipped out of sight in the direction of Zonko's while Harry and Neville let out roars of laughter.

'That was a classic!' Guffawed Neville, almost spilling his pint.

'Let's just hope Lavender and Parvati were just as convincing with Hermione.' Harry said, 'I can't wait to see that!'

But soon their silence was halted by the approaching Draco Malfoy. Without his makeshift bodyguards, Malfoy looked small and pathetic; his pale eyes like slits in the brightness of the sun that was blinding to the dwellers of the underground. Harry glanced up at his angrily as he came to rest in front of their table; his hands laid out flat upon the wooden tabletop.

'What to you want, Malfoy?' Harry spat. He fingered his wand in his pocket and Malfoy flinched, remembering the scars he still carried from the last time the two of them crossed each other. However, Malfoy stayed firm, his eyes fixed on Neville's ruddy cheeks 

'Look Potter, just because I think you're a spoilt brat doesn't mean that I never need to share the info with you.' Malfoy stood for a moment, the superior look on his face very hard to stomach. He looked so pleased with himself. 'Of course if you're not interested…'

'Keep talking.' Said Harry bluntly. This'd better be good, he thought. 

'Well,' he said, turning his attention to the now ash-faced Neville, 'Hate to break it to you Romeo, but I think your Juliet has a case of the roving eye.'

'Yeah right Malfoy,' Harry chuckled, 'You're just out to make trouble.'

'Now why would I do that?' he sneered, patting Neville on the shoulder and picking off Ginny's long red hairs from his T-shirt. Neville looked distinctly uncomfortable.

'Well, because you're a god damn son of a…'

'Language, Potter! Now are you interested or am I wasting my time?'

'Talk.'

Well…' he said with a mysterious air about him, 'Why talk when you can see? Go to the Owlery at midnight and you'll have all the proof that you need.'

And with that, Malfoy sunk back into the crowded pub looking very satisfied with himself. Harry finished his drink and turned back to Neville.

'You don't believe him, do you?'

Neville made no reply. Harry rolled his eyes.

'Oh come on, Neville! She's mad about you. She told me herself. You'd be pretty stupid to believe Malfoy, he's always been one for the bluff…'

But Neville wasn't listening. He finished his own drink quickly and sighed.

'Harry…' he said slowly, standing up and picking up his and Harry's glasses. 'There's no harm in taking a look now, is there? I mean, I wouldn't trust Draco Malfoy as far as I could throw him, but it would put my mind at rest. Seeing is believing, after all.'

Neville then left Harry to his own thoughts as he delved back into the Three Broomsticks to buy the next round. Harry leant on his hands, elbows up on the table as he sank into a deep thought about Neville's passing words. Five years ago if someone had said that to him, he would have believed it. He would have said his own life was as good as it would ever be, living in a moth infested cupboard back in Privet drive, untouched, definitely unloved, and far from special. Five years ago, he was alone. Five years ago, all this would have existed merely as a dream that he would have been forbidden to discuss. Maybe seeing used to be believing. For now he wasn't so sure.

*

The humidity increased dramatically that night, and it got to the stage in the Gryffindor tower that the fires had to be put out and replaced by magically enhanced fanning devices, but to little effect. Harry sat on the sofa, exhausted after a last minute training session for the Hufflepuff game the next day, the heat making him sleepy as he wiped his sweaty forehead with a clammy hand. He was so tired. The first day without a match or a practise seemed to make the previous days catch up with him. Even Ron was too tired to bicker with Hermione, instead simply watching her with a slight look of bemusement on his face as she flicked through the latest edition of _Hogwarts, A History_, pretending she wasn't trying to sneak gazes back over the heavily bound volume. How she could read in this heat was beyond anybody's comprehension. A storm appeared to be brewing outside, and Harry silently prayed it would come soon.

'This is ridiculous,' he said suddenly, standing up and stretching. 'I'm going for a walk. I can't stand to be held up in here any more. I need to breathe!'

The others looked at him sympathetically as he walked out the common room and into the corridor. It was just as hot moving around the castle, possibly more so, but Harry very much hoped that at least a light breeze would exist up on one of the towers…

Harry was so engrossed in that thought that he failed to notice the other figure sitting in the moonlight up in Owlery.

'What are you doing up here?'

Harry turned suddenly to see Neville sitting by the window, hunched up with his outline illuminated by the glowing orb. He looked as pale as a sheet.

'Oh, it's only you,' Harry sighed with relief, wandering over to where Neville was sitting. 'Probably up here for the same reason as you.'

'I sincerely doubt that.'

The reply was cold. Harry could see now that Neville's eyes were narrow slits, a far more menacing look than suited him. Harry rolled his eyes.

'Honestly, Nev, you don't believe that Slytherin scumbag, do you? You know Ginny better than that…'

'Shush!'

Neville grabbed Harry and shoved him back against the wall with all the force he could muster as the door to the Owlery creaked open. Both of them scuttled into the corner as two figures entered, giggling excitedly. The girl spoke first.

'What if someone finds us?' she whispered seductively. She pushed her hair over her shoulders with a flick of her hand. It shone brightly tin the moonlight. Bright red.

'Don't worry, who would want to hide out in a room full of bird crap?'

The other voice came thickly through the humid night air. The realisation hit Neville as he let out a small sob of horror Harry held him back from blowing their cover. 

'How romantic.'

'I'll show you romantic…'

Harry didn't want Neville seeing any more. He dragged him back to the darkest corner of the Owlery, muttered 'Retego' and slid behind the secret door and out of sight. Moony, Wormtail and the gang certainly had their uses. As Neville slid down the wall of the passage and collapsed into a stream of silent slobs, Harry was lost for words. 

Neville disappeared soon afterwards, leaving Harry to linger in the passageway, lost in his own thoughts. How could Ginny do this, and with a Slytherin of all people? It didn't seem to make any sense. She would never go with a Slytherin, even if he were the spit of Lockhart. The equation didn't fit. Goyle? One of Draco Malfoy's henchmen? That guy barely had two brain cells to rub together. Harry was really worried about the youngest Weasley's taste in men. This guy was as ugly as sin. A Slytherin? Her brother would throw a fit, not to mention the quivering wreck that she'd caused Neville had turned into. And just he other night she'd been professing how fond she was of the guy, virtually jumping up and down with squeals of glee at the thought of him asking her out. Harry had been relieved: He was killing two birds with one stone, with Ginny no longer drooling over him and his scar, and Neville actually having a decent reason to go through the torture of potions. With all of this in mind, something didn't add up. He resolved right then and there, with Neville sniffling on this shoulder, that he'd get to the bottom of this little mystery. Finally standing up and emerging from the cramped secret passage, he leaving Neville to sleep off his 'betrayal' and began to descend the tower and head to the common room, sighing heavily. It had been a long day. He sneaked quietly along the corridors, ruffling his hair with a free hand while attempting to remain alert despite the thoughtfulness that had landed upon him. He had to be careful: It may have been the holidays, but Filch and Mrs Norris were still on the prowl and the last thing Harry wanted was to spend the next three days polishing trophies for the squib.

*

'What are you doing down here?'

Colin Creevy had been sitting out in the Quidditch stands, staring into space before the voice of his younger brother brought him back to reality. He always felt at home out on the Quidditch pitch. Although not a star player, he loved the atmosphere created by the most popular of wizarding sport. Beat the FA cup final any day. Dennis seemed to share his enthusiasm: Due to the triwizard tournament, he hadn't seen any real Quidditch before and was positively loving it.

'Hey, Colin!' he squealed, running up the stands to sit next to his sibling 'Did you see the match the other day? Those Slytherins just squashed Hufflepuff! I reckon we're in for an easy game tomorrow, don't you?'

'Hmm' was all the reply he could muster. Had he really been that annoying in the first year?

'Hey, what's that down there?'

Colin followed his brother's gaze as two figures entered the grounds and swaggered, in a rather drunken state, toward the stands on the opposite side. The figures looked incredibly pleased with themselves, their laughter echoing loudly across the pitch to their hidden observers.

'Shush!' 

The brothers sank low, scuttling around the stands to get a closer look at the drunken pair, now swinging butterbeer bottles dangerously in their clumsy hands. They laughed raucously as one of them attempted to down it in one but consequently split it all down his robes, collapsing onto the Quidditch pitch in a drunken stupor. Colin glanced at Dennis, rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the incapable pair. Crabbe and Goyle really were thick.

'Great night Goyle! Nothing like a good piss-up when Quidditch is concerned…'

'Yeah, huh huh. What's sport without the token hooliganism?'

'What else could we ask for? Beer, Quidditch and Girls. Not necessarily in that order!'

'Whoo hoo!'

There was a lengthy pause as Crabbe let out a large belch. Dennis curled his nose in disgust: these two barely had the accumulative IQ to open a can of sardines. Slowly, Goyle staggered to sit down and sobered up for a minute.

'Got a bit of action in that department tonight, mate!' he said proudly, puffing out his already oversized chest. 'Millicent Bulstrode. She was gagging for it. You've seen the way she drowns in her drool whenever I walk past?' His voice began to drawl. 'So obvious! Draco cooked it all up. She certainly lived up to her reputation. Put on a damn fine performance up in the Owlery, if you know what I mean. Heh heh…'

The nudging and winking went on for a little bit. However Colin was rapidly losing interest in the Slytherin's love life. He got up to sneak away but then Dennis grabbed the sleeve of his robes to divert his attention back to the thug's conversation.

'Ah, but that's not all. Our Draco had an ulterior motive…'

'What are you on about? I barely understand English when I'm sober. I don't want to break a habit of a lifetime.' 

The drunken friends leaned in closer to each other as their watchers did the same.

'Well, he only went and told Longbottom that someone was getting his wicked way with Weasley's little sister! Told him to go up the west tower tonight and he'd see the whole lot!'

'Hang on, hang on…' slurred Crabbe slowly, Colin would swear he saw the cogs in his head moving at a snail's pace, in desperate need of an oiling. 'Didn't you just say you was up there with the Millie bird?'

'Well, yeah. But here's the thing: We spiked her evening nightcap with some polyjuice potion. Made her look like that Ginny girl, Of course when I put on my famous seductive charm and lured her up to the tower, Longbottom was cowering in the corner. Saw everything. Got right to it. Wallop!' he made an incestuous gesture with him arm. 'Expect mass hysteria in the Gryffindor ranks very, very soon!'

'That'll put the wind up the Gryffindors for the next Quidditch match!'

'Slytherins for the cup!'

'Petrificus Totalus!'

Colin's enraged voice echoed across the pitch efficiently enough to paralyse Crabbe and Goyle, initially bolting upright as the effect of the full body bind took hold, then falling to the ground with an earth-crashing thud. Dennis could barely keep up with his brother as he dashed across the pitch to lean over the fallen figures, his face a mixture of glee and disgust. He prodded the body with his toes, as Crabbe glared at him with frozen eyes.

'I think we've foiled your little plan, boys!' muttered Colin.

'So what do we do now?'

Colin now possessed a mischievous gleam 'Well, as much as I'd like to beat seven bells of crap out of the pair of them, I guess we'd better lock them up somewhere until I can get to Harry. Help me with this great lump will you?'

Dennis obediently picked up Goyle's legs as his brother struggled with his bulky shoulders, deliberately dropping him occasionally as they both staggered up toward the castle.

*

'Hermione?'

Ginny's voice was met by a dreamy silence from Hermione's general direction, as she sat in the common room early that morning, her book laid forgotten on her lap as she stared out the window across the lake below.

'Earth to Hermione? Are you receiving me?' she crept over and edged closer to Hermione's ear. 'HERMIONE!'

'What?' she turned suddenly in her chair, the daydream interrupted as she became reacquainted with the light of day. She rubbed her eyes wearily, Ginny gradually coming into focus as she emerged into reality. 'What's up?'

'Oh, nothing.' She replied a mischievous grin so like her twin brother's edging across her face. She examined Hermione closely, her clothes from the day before still adorning her perfectly proportioned frame, a little crumple from sitting up all night. Hermione stepped in with a quick explanation as it became plain that Ginny was getting her maths wrong.

'Just a bout of midnight hay fever…' she said, pretending to get a sudden attack of the sniffles. 'Couple that with the usual plague of insomnia and you've got yourself a recipe for a restless night.'

'Hmm.' Ginny was obviously unsatisfied. 'Just look at yourself, Herm. The pale complexion, the dreamy eyes, the wistful sighing…. Methinks you're smitten.' 

'Methinks you're off your rocker…' she muttered in response. 'You couldn't get one of the boys to run down to Madam Pomfrey for me? I could do with some Pepper-up potion.'

Ginny smirked. 'And I suppose you'd like Ron to tuck you into bed as well?'

Hermione's breath caught in her throat for a second, eyes wide and panicky at the thought of being discovered. Ginny picked up on it instantly as Hermione attempted to change tack, rolling her eyes heavenward.

'Ron!' She exclaimed, standing on her feet, suddenly recovered. 'Why is it always about Ron? Has it ever occurred to you that not everything revolves around that redheaded blob of Bubotuber pus?'

'Put your handbag away, dear, I was only joshing with you. But are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me?'

The daggers that shot from Hermione's indignant eyes soon silenced her, but failed to prevent the mischievous grin from illuminating Ginny's freckled features. She turned sharply and left Hermione to her day dreaming.

'We'll see.' She whispered.

*

Nearly everyone was up early today, the atmosphere electric on the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables in particular, in light of the upcoming match later in the day. Ron had barely sat down next to Harry when the pair of them were leapt upon by an over excited Colin Creevy with his dwarf like clone in the form of Dennis. So much for a peaceful breakfast, he thought as the pair of them took up temporary residence on the bench opposite them. They were both fit to bursting.

'Hey Harry!'

'Hullo Colin… Dennis.' The nod toward the youngest Creevy almost toppled him off his chair.

'Well, erm…' stuttered Colin, engulfed in awe of the boy who lived. 'Good Quidditch conditions this morning, Harry! We'll smash those Hufflepuffs, won't we?'

'Er, yeah, I suppose - 'Harry muttered into his scrambled egg. Colin failed to note his enthusiasm as he steamed on regardless.

'You'll have to ignore my brother, Harry,' he said, glancing over at Dennis who seemed frozen with admiration. 'He's never seen a Quidditch tournament before. The excitement's just gone to his head. Daft as a broomstick, I swear.'

'Look,' spat Ron, annoyed the boys were interrupting a perfectly good breakfast. 'Have you got something to say or can we get a bit of peace? Tactical planning time needed, you know.'

Colin puffed out his chest proudly, preparing to spill all in some long, elegant expression, when Dennis saved him the trouble.

'Look, Harry,' he said quickly, 'last night we caught a couple of Slytherins up to no good, as usual…'

Colin picked it up 'Yeah, right pair of thugs, couldn't have had a brain cell between them.'

'Isn't that always the case?' muttered Ron. Colin laughed loudly.

'Yeah, hit the nail right on the head there, Ron. Good one! Anyway, these hideous abominations of human nature were totally boozed up on the Quidditch pitch. Swaying, drinking, singing rude songs with words I wouldn't like bestowed on my brother's innocent ears… ('Colin!' Dennis blushed) but don't despair Harry! We caught them out before they could attempt to turn the pitch into a Jackson Pollack. Left them and their hangover locked up in one of the dungeon rooms…'

'What's this got to do with me?' Harry said, slightly annoyed and nerves gathering in his stomach as Ginny entered the hall. 'Go and talk to McGonagall about it. Or Hooch if they were going to tear up the pitch. I haven't got the time to waste… Quidditch match to win!'

The younger boys seemed easily satisfied, taking solace in Harry's advice and scampering out of the hall just as Ginny strode up to the Gryffindor table.

Harry and Ron were already digging at a replenishing pile of scrambled egg as Ginny came to join them, glowing with delight at the success of Harry's plan, highlighted by the obvious undertone in her previous conversation with Hermione. Careful not to divulge too much with Ron at the table, she attempted to drop subtle hints at the Gryffindor seeker as he looked at her suspiciously, his eyes squinting a little as he did when searching for the snitch, the concentration furrowed deeply on his brow. She shift uncomfortably in her seat as Harry leaned across the table, Ron distracted by his brother's levitating a bowl of grapefruit precariously over Katie Bell's head, his tone unmistakably questioning.

'Ginny… where were you last night?'

Taken back by the odd question, she stuttered slightly on her answer. 'Well, I… I was in bed. I was so tired after we got back from Hogsmeade that I was out like a light as soon as my head hot the pillow.' He raised his eyebrows. 'Why?'

'Can anybody vouch for that?'

'Why would they need to Harry? Is there something you need to tell me, or…'

But her sentence was cut off by the arrival of Neville, white faced and teary eyed as he placed a shaky hand on Ginny's shoulder. She turned to greet him with a trademark Weasley smile, only to be met with a scowl that seemed so alien on Neville's rounded face it melted on the spot.

'Something up, Neville?' she said quietly, sensing a scene was about to break and wishing to minimise its impact. 'Or is there a severe bout of PMT going around that no-one's told me about?'

'You tell me.'

The tone was decisively bitter, but Ron failed to pick up on this as he jokingly covered up Ginny's burning ears.

'Hey! Don't poison my little sister's innocent ears with such nonsense! PMT? She's not supposed to know about that! She'll be asking about he birds and the bees next!'

Neville failed to laugh, instead the scowl of his face deepened as he diverged into his age-old stutter. Harry; eyes began to widen at the impending accusation.

'I think it's a little too late to be concerned about that Ron, if last night was anything to go by.' Ginny looked at Neville, eyes dazed and confused. 'No point in covering it up, Weasley. I saw you. So did Harry, for that matter. Up in the Owlery with that Slytherin.'

The table fell silent as eyes shifted from Neville to Ginny's ever-blushing face. 'I don't know what you're talking about…'

'How could you!' he spat angrily, a rage engulfing Neville with such velocity that it shocked the Gryffindor table. Ginny's crime must have been awful to put the mildest of boys in such a state of devastation. 'And with Goyle! Do you have no loyalty?'

'Neville…' interrupted Hermione, aghast. 'Have you totally lost it? Ginny does have some taste, you know.' Neville was too enraged to note the protest.

'So much for the pure and innocent act, hey Ginny? You're probably the Gryffindor tower communal bicycle for all I know. Anything else you want to tell me?'

Ron was completely baffled, his face a mixture of wanting to thump Neville for such an outrage on his sister, or disown Ginny altogether for doing the dirty on one of his friends. Instead he sat there, mouth agape as the scene unveiled around them. Now the other tables were looking over as the argument raged.

'Good was he?'

Tears began to form in Ginny's large brown eyes. 'Neville…' she pleaded.

'Don't Neville me!' he screeched, getting hysterical. 'If you're so truthful as you make out, you'd be able to tell me. So come on. Tell me. Tell us all!' he made a sweeping gesture at the rest of the Gryffindor table. 'Was he worth it?'

Ginny was too shocked to utter an answer, merely omitting the occasional gulping noise as an attempt at defence. This wasn't exactly convincing as Neville fled the great hall to the shrieking laughs of the Slytherin table, Draco doubled up in laughter as he thumped the table in delight. As many a disapproving look came her way and the grapefruit bowl crashed upon Katie's head as was the shock of the accusation, Ginny merely paled in seconds, staring at her empty plate as her appetite faded on the spot. Ron was gazing wide-eyed at her sister, unsure which side of the fence he wanted to fall upon. Hermione put a comforting arm around the youngest Weasley while eyes turned on Harry for the overdue explanation. 

'Well, I was up in the Owlery late last night…' he said, still eyeing Ginny with suspicion, 'And Neville obviously was taking Malfoy's wind-up seriously as he was waiting up there for Ginny and her mysterious bit on the side. Then we heard two people come in, and…' he paused and looked at Ginny intensely, 'Sorry, Gin, but whoever was desperate to be fooling around with Goyle was the spit of you. Right down to the voice.'

'But she couldn't have!' interjected Hermione, 'I was in the common room all night!' she ignored the exchange of looks between Harry and the twins and Ron's bafflement and continued. 'I couldn't get to sleep. Anyway, I saw her go up to bed. We all did. I would have seen her leave of she really was up in the Owlery!' 

Ron took one look at Hermione's flushed features and picked up her trail. 'Yeah, Harry,' he said slowly as Ginny broke into silent tears. 'Something doesn't add up here. And I bet it has Malfoy's stinking fingerprints all over it.'

Harry wasn't quite convinced, still looking at Ginny with a glint of suppressed disappointment in his emerald eyes. Hermione rolled her eyes at the ridiculous situation, as Parvati and Lavender a few seats away delved into a morning of gossipy anecdotes. Ginny's tears faded into dry sobs against Hermione's shoulder, even the twins unable to crack a joke at the situation. Harry looked at the crest-fallen Ginny and wondered if she was capable of such a thing. It didn't make sense. It never did. She couldn't have done it. And he felt it was down to him to sort it.

'Ginny…' he said slowly as something resembling a plan began to take shape in his head, 'Have you ever got a howler?'

She looked up, bafflement apparent through the haze of tears that graced her normally cheerful face. Under the guise of comforting the fallen sister from the murderous looks that were mounting all around, the group began to hussle her out of the hall as Harry explained the most elaborate of plans.

'Look,' he said quietly with an air of urgency. It's pretty obvious that me and Neville have been the victims of some huge colossal scam dreamed up by the Slytherins.' George looked a little apprehensive, but he continued. 'I know Ginny. We all Know Ginny. This is too much of a bolt from the blue to have any chance of holding up in court.' She opened her mouth to air her agreement, but was only met with a momentary sob. Hermione gave her a reassuring hug. 'So what we need to do is send Neville on the biggest guilt trip ever known to mankind. He's not a bad guy; he's just a little over-sensitive. A bit understandable considering…'

'Considering what?' frowned Fred. Harry quickly stepped back from the dog doo he was about to tread in and shook himself right.

'Nothing. Anyway, What do you think your mother would do if she heard you'd cheated on Neville?' All eyes now lay on Ginny.

'She'd freak out,' she said quietly, her face still buried in Hermione's shoulder. 'She'd say they hadn't brought me up like that, probably take me out of school or something…'

'Exactly!' Harry said triumphantly. The others just looked baffled. 'If we send Mrs Weasley an owl telling her what happened, then via pulling a few strings where the faculty are concerned, I think she can deliver a rather convincing Howler that may deliver the right message to our dear Longbottom, don't you?'

George was still looking at his sister with a slight air of suspicion, but when confronted by her now lightening features, he caved in,

'Alright, alright,' he said finally, rummaging for his broom on the porch as they reached the front door. 'We'll do it. What choice do we have?'

'Great!' said Harry, smiling reassuringly at Ginny. 'Now lets go and pummel some Hufflepuffs!

*

A/N; So will it pay off (All the people who love Shakespeare and know the play inside out are shaking their heads in disbelief. _She's murdering it_…) Read on to Act IV and fins out! Queries to the additional author's note and reviews are loved by all. It's nearly Christmas: Time to start giving!


	4. Act IV

A/N: We're getting there slowly in this Harry Potter version of the Shakespearean great Much Ado about Nothing. Lovely stuff. I hope I do not continue to murder it too much and of course reviews are essential. I need to feel good about myself somehow…

Dis: I own the concept, Shakespeare owns the plot, JK owns the characters. For all other info and anything else that bothers you, please read all the other parts and the author's note. Enjoy!

****

Much Ado about Quidditch

ACT IV

The group departed soberly, Harry beckoning for Ron to join him and the twins as they headed towards the Quidditch pitch. As tempting as it was to get a bit of warm-up under his belt, Ron was being drawn unwillingly to other places. Before his brain could complain, he'd yelled he'd be there in a minute as his feet drew him magnetically to the shoreline of the lake, and a down trodden looking Hermione.

'Mind if I sit down?'

Hermione nodded quietly and continued to look out across the shimmering lake, the giant squid making occasional dives further out form the shore, the only body making ripples on an otherwise clear morning. She sighed wearily.

'All this Ginny business is really taking it out of you, isn't it?

'She's my friend, Ron,' she said softly, her speech lacking its usual air of distaste. 'I don't like seeing her upset.'

'I don't like seeing you upset, Herm.'

If Hermione took note of this statement, she didn't show it. 'Shouldn't you be more upset, Ron? I mean, Neville just totally humiliated your sister in there? If it were me, I'd be vying for blood. If you really loved her, you would.'

'I don't doubt that Neville's got the wrong end of the stick. Any idiot could see that. We've just got to convince him, that's all.'

'He doesn't know a good thing if it jumped out the lake and slapped him round the face with a wet fish.'

'Most of us don't.'

Hermione paused for a minute, absorbing the full impact of the first conversation in months where her and Ron hadn't insulted each other. 'So…' she stuttered. 'What are you saying?'

'You do realise you mean a lot to me, don't you?' he said quietly, ears reddening. Hermione's open mouth forced him to continue. 'That isn't so strange, is it?'

'No, I suppose not…' Hermione said, suddenly wide-eyed but deep in thought. Did he mean what she thought he did? Were her gossipy roommates really telling the truth? She began to stutter. 'I mean, well, what I really mean is… you mean a lot to me too.' She blushed furiously too. 'I'm sorry Ron. That probably came out all wrong. I'm just in a bit of a tizz over Ginny, you know…'

'Come off it Hermione,' Ron said suddenly an air of nervous determination in his voice as he turned to face her. 'There's more to it than that, isn't there?' He was taking a dive into uncharted waters here. There was no turning back. 'I know there is for me.' 

There. He did it. He closed his eyes daring not to hear her reply as doubts plagued his mind. 'What if this was just a massive wind up on the part of Fred and George? He wouldn't put it past them, the mischievous pair of good for nothing…'

'Really?'

He nodded silently, still looking at the floor, not daring to make eye contact. Then she spoke.

'Ditto.'

Such a simple word was enough to raise Ron out of his self-imposed melancholy and finally look her in the face. He grinned foolishly.

'Well,' he said, his voice going back to his usual cocky tones. 'I'll just have to find means of cheering you up! Come on,' he began to move closer. 'You name it, I'll do it.'

But in that brief second of hesitation that came before her reply, something unrecognisable flashed across her eyes, something that Ron wasn't going to like.

'Challenge Neville to a wizard's duel.'

'What?'

'You heard me.'

Ron sat leapt back, as if he'd just received an electric shock, jumping to his feet as Hermione stared up at him expectantly. Had she gone mad? He merely started back, wide-eyed.

'I'll take that as a no.' she said stubbornly, now taking her cue to stand up and prepare to leave. 'And if that's how you feel about it…'

'Hermione…' Ron said desperately, letting go of all inhibitions as he went to grab her arm.

'I honestly don't believe you, Ron!' she pulled it away sharply. 'Ginny's devastated! Neville had no right to go blundering into the great hall and start shooting his mouth off! Someone needs to sort him out.' Her eyes were now wide with a frightening rage. 'If you can't see that, then - '

'But Hermione! Neville's my friend! Yeah, sure he gets a little hotheaded at times but that doesn't give me an excuse to start dusting off the attack charms…'

'She's your sister, Ron! And one of my closest friends! If I were in your shoes I would have chucked him in the lake already…'

'But - '

'Ginny would never have mucked around with a Slytherin! The suggestion's so ridiculous, it's almost laughable. Honestly, I thought Neville had far more sense than that. And I don't think it would hurt to have that knocked into him! Come on, Ron…'

She looked close to tears, indeed they were in fact glistening in the corners of her cinnamon eyes and beginning to spill down her cheeks as her rage feel into a disbelieving silence. The sight was already melting Ron's defences, as he stepped back closer to her.

'Do you really believe that?' he whispered.

'As Snuffles is innocent, yes.'

Ron swallowed hard. 'Then, I suppose I have no choice, do I?'

Hermione nodded slowly a she wiped away a tear, something that seemed so alien on her normally cheerful face that it chilled Ron to the bone. He then became vaguely aware of Harry yelling at him from across the grounds, the impending Hufflepuff match now most forward in his otherwise distracted mind.

'Look, I've really got to go.' Hermione instantly understood. 'Keep an eye on Ginny for me, will you? Don't worry, I'll sort Neville out.'

As he grabbed his broom and began to depart, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek, lingering for a moment as the acknowledgement of what had passed began to sink in. Both failed to conceal their ever-spreading grins, yet slightly tainted at the reality of their cost.

*

'Mr Filch! Mr Filch!'

Argus Filch was already having a bad day, and by the sound of the high pitched squeaks that pursued him down the corridor, it was about to get worse. The summer used to be his peace haven, the school kept quiet and clean as those troublesome irks went home for the holidays and he was able to finally breathe a sigh of relief. Always out to make his life that but more difficult. This was no exception.

'No peace for the wicked, my sweet,' he purred to Mrs Norris bitterly as the footsteps came closer, turning to address the on-comers. 'What do you little trouble-makers want now?'

Colin and Dennis Creevy, the comedy double act, finally waddled up to the caretaker, a little out of breath but positively glowing.

'Well, Mr Filch, if you don't mind, sir, I mean if we're not distracting you…'

'Cut the claptrap, Creevy! I have enough of that term time!'

Dennis saved his bacon. 'We caught a couple of Slytherins drunk and disorderly on the Quidditch pitch, they were yelling and-'

'WHAT?' spat Filch, the anger visibly boiling behind his narrowed eyes. 'Sabotage? Lead the way, Creevy!' he snarled. Dennis let out an excited squeak as they proceeded across the entrance hall towards the dungeons. Filch was silently cursing under his breath as the boys left a trail of mud behind them, the disapproval being continued by Mrs Norris, tail held high in an act of premature victory

Eventually, the Creevys led the frustrated party to a little used corridor, Colin pulling out his wand and tapping a portrait of Uric the Oddball three times on the nose to reveal a hidden door. Filch looked completely outraged.

'You little scoundrels!' he yelped, Mrs Norris winding between his legs giving the brothers a menacing stare. 'How did you find out about that? This area is clearly staff only! You…'

But his ramblings were soon silenced upon the sight of the condemned, currently out for the count but strung upside down by a pair of very old shackles, about to give way any minute under the grossly underestimated weight of Crabbe and Goyle. 

'Well, well, well…' he muttered, unable to disguise the immense satisfaction in his voice. 'What do we have here, my sweet?'

'A couple of low life, good-for-nothing…'

'Silence Creevy! I want to hear what these fiends have so say for themselves.'

'Well,' said Dennis timidly. 'You'll have to wake them up first. They're only stunned.'

Colin could've sworn Filch went a minimal shade of crimson at this proposal. 'Ah, well I erm… forgot my wand.' The panicky expression was quickly clouded. 'And you need the practise!'

Colin quickly woke up the oafs (With a couple of slaps across the face for good measure) as they moaned and stirred, beginning to thrash wildly against their restraints. Filch stared.

'Well?'

The pair of them looked at each other then back at Filch. 'Well what?'

'What have you got to say for yourselves! These two nitwits said quite clearly that you two were rolling about as drunk as anything on the Quidditch pitch at all hours! That just isn't acceptable behaviour!'

'So that's why my head feels like its been through a cheese grater…' Crabbe muttered, swaying slightly by his ankles, face as red as a beetroot.

'Yeah!' said Colin loudly, not wanting to miss out on the action. 'You heard that sir! That's a confession if I ever heard one!'

'Quiet Creevy!' snapped Filch. Then he added, 'I'm glad to see the old ball and chain came into good use. Strong punishments, that's what I say! This detention malarkey's no good to anyone…'

'It's not just that Mr Filch!' said Dennis quickly, 'Along with Draco Malfoy, these two snuffbuckets tricked Neville Longbottom into thinking Ginny was having a fling with this excuse for a brain cell.' He prodded Goyle in the back as he hung there, looking a stupid as ever. 'I think they were trying to wind up the Quidditch team so they wouldn't win the cup!'

Filch frowned a little at the latest piece of gossip, unsure of its relevance, then sudden realisation dawned on his gruesome face. 'So that's what all that racket was at breakfast this morning? I heard that Longbottom going off on one, stupid, childish behaviour if you ask me. Maybe he should be hung up here too…'

'No!' said Colin desperately. 'You don't understand! They were trying to fix the Quidditch cup!'

Now it had been spelt out in plain English, even the squibbish mind of Filch was able to comprehend it. The grin of evil satisfaction was back with a vengeance.

'Well, my sweet,' he said, glancing down at a purring Mrs Norris. 'I must go and tell Professor McGonagall! The headmaster if I can get hold of him!' He turned to address the gobsmacked figure of the Slytherin boys. 'You haven't heard the last of this! Match fixing! You and that Malfoy boy have really landed yourselves in it this time!'

'Oh,' drawled Goyle menacingly, 'Shut it you squib…'

Not that either Colin or Dennis knew what this meant, the effect on the caretaker was unmissable. His face swelled up like a bright red balloon, threatening to explode at any second with his erupting anger. It even made the Creevys cringe.

'Did you hear that!' he bellowed, so much that it echoed right through the portrait and filled the dungeons with its outrage. 'Did you hear that! They called me a squib! I…I…' he was too angry for words. 'You've well and truly crossed the line with your insolence! I was going to let you go, but after that a few more hours strung up wouldn't do you the slightest bit of harm. A squib??!?'

And with that, he dashed back out the portrait hole and belted down the corridor, Dennis and Colin tripping over themselves to catch up. As the light began to fade from the closing door, Crabbe glanced over to his companion, panic setting into his face.

'Malfoy's going to kill us…'

*

The pitch was crowded out for the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor match, and this combined with yet another morning of scheming and scamming, the changing room was just as packed with tension and anxiousness. Their minds were certainly not on the game at hand.

'Come on!' urged Harry as he laid his eyes upon a much crest-fallen Fred and George, 'We can't let all this Ginny business get to us…' Harry then paused, a little taken back 'and I'm really beginning to sound like Wood, aren't I?'

The twins nodded grimly as Harry joined them in their melancholy. The three of them continued to stare at the floor, Harry feeling the familiar set of nerves began to settle in.

'Poor Ginny…' George said sadly. 'She must be feeling awful. When I see that Longbottom I swear I'll punch his lights out! Dissing a Weasley in front of the whole school… it's a criminal offence!' Now it was his turn to pause. 'And I'm sounding like Malfoy, aren't I?'

His brother couldn't help a small ironic smile from creeping over his lips. Harry was grateful for the light relief. Fred shook his head and finally rose, grabbing his broomstick for a last minute check when Ron came bursting into the changing rooms, a little out of breath.

'Oh hey there stranger…' said Fred, lightening for an instant. 'Decided to join us then?'

'Erm, yeah,' we said, blushing slightly.

'What, no come back?' said George with fake astonishment. 'No witty remark to send us on our merry way? No charming anecdote…'

'And to think,' continued Fred, a twinkle in his eye, 'that just the other day we had Hermione in here after practise singing your praises, didn't we boys?'

'Sure was…' said Harry, cottoning on. 'Wouldn't shut up. 'Ron said this' and 'Ron said that' and I couldn't get a word in edgeways. And when she finally allowed me to voice my opinion on how sometimes your 'inventive' sarcasm sometimes was taken as offence, she wasn't hearing any of it. Apparently her little Ronniekins wouldn't hurt a fly.'

The twins grinned evilly at the use of Ron's family nickname. His ears reddened.

'Well, yes, erm…'

'Ah,' said Harry, truly on the wind-up. 'Then we finally squeezed it out of the library bound one that there's a little more to you two than meets the eye…'

Ron looked completely panic-stricken. George picked up the story and delivered the punch.

'I mean, we'd heard it all from Ginny,' he winked at the other two slyly, 'But her defensiveness just confirmed it. Seems like she's smitten, mate!'

Ron flushed an even deeper shade of red and was almost camouflaged by his Quidditch robes; He grunted something about a warm up and tried to make a run for it.

'Sorry, brother darling, you're not going to get out of this one.' Fred jumped up and slapped Ron hard on the back. 'So when do we let the swooning maidens of the Gryffindor tower know you're taken?' 

'If you must know,' Ron said loudly, as if to confirm the lie to himself. 'I'm beginning to think you lot are turning into a bunch of gossipy old biddies. To be honest, there are more important things to deal with right now, Quidditch just being one of them. Come on, we've got a match to win.'

And with that, he disappeared out the door and onto the sidelines. Harry merely grinned.

'He's got it bad.'

The laughter that followed was sure to echo right to the top of the Quidditch stands as they too stepped out to face the Hufflepuff ranks.

*

The match was a close one. Too close for Harry's comfort, a lucky save from Ron as his fist encircled the snitch the only thing that saved them from an embarrassing defeat. Nobody played a decent game, Harry almost being splattered by an unattended bludger as his eyes were distracted, curtains drawn across a single window back in the Gryffindor tower causing his mind to dangerously wonder. Even the chasers weren't putting in much effort, everyone somehow presuming the Hufflepuffs to be a soft touch. The minutes silence at the beginning of the game had a sobering affect on all present, but awarding the Hufflepuff team with an extra incentive for victory. It didn't bode well for the decisive match against Slytherin.

The guilt trip thesis for Ginny and Neville seemed to be slow on the uptake. He was still taking refuge in the comfort of Dean and Seamus, who still shot the occasional angry glance over in the Weasley's general direction, but with Neville giving Ron a more cautious eye. He refused to return the glance. The bad feeling accumulated at the Ravenclaw/Slytherin game, the Gryffindors praying in vein for a Slytherin defeat that would ensure an easy path to the cup. The morning meal was more nerve-tracking than normal, the Gryffindors picking at their pancakes more down-trodden than usual, Ginny not eating a bite as Neville and his band continued to stare, their evil looks piercing her morale to the core as she gazed misty eyed into her plate. As Hermione put an arm around her young friend's shoulders, it arrived.

The owls were much less in number than in term time, but that didn't mean that parents and old school alumni didn't want to know the ins and outs of this most controversial of Quidditch tournaments. And it was about to become more so.

Errol, the Weasley family owl, was on his last legs. Indeed Harry wasn't sure that the journey was such a good idea, as the ball of fluff landed with a plop into the now over-flowing milk-jug. It certainly bore a burden: A burden of the red and smoking variety. Ginny didn't have a chance.

'GINNY WEASLEY!' Her mother's voice screeched across the Great hall, much to the surprise of the rest of the Gryffindors who turned and stared more so. 'I CANNOT BELIEVE A DAUGHTER OF MINE TURNED OUT TO BE A MANIPULATIVE, DISLOYAL EXCUSE FOR A FLOBBERWORM! YOUR FATHER WAS SO ANGRY WHEN HE HEARD WHAT YOU DID TO THAT LONGBOTTOM BOY!' Neville looked up, unsure whether to take a bow or hide behind the confused figures of Seamus and Dean. The Howler continued. 'NEVILLE IS SUCH A NICE BOY, AND I DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO TREAT THEM LIKE THAT….' Harry gulped, as for sure he knew the rub. 'I HAVE ALREADY SPOKEN TO MADAME MAXINE AND YOU'RE OFF TO BEAUXBATONS, YOUNG LADY! AND PERHAPS THAT'LL TEACH YOU SOME MANNERS!'

And the pure anger that went into the howler took over; burning the little re letter to a cinder before the message could be finally delivered. A silence had fallen over the hall that had never been witnessed. Hardly anyone transferred magical schools, so whatever Ginny Weasley did must have been serious. Neville was mumbling to his cronies at the other end of the table, evaluating his next move, as Madame Pomfrey came over to Ginny.

'Your mother will meet you in Hogsmeade, Miss Weasley,' she said, firmly raising Ginny to her feet. 'She thought it best of you stayed at home for the rest of the holidays. Say goodbye to your brothers, quickly now…'

And with that, Ginny Weasley was quickly hushed out of the Great Hall and into the world unknown. Harry glanced up at Dumbledore on the top table, along with Professor McGonagall, both of whom here looking intensely at Neville with a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. He supposed Mrs Weasley had filled them in. But nothing. Neville was continuing to enjoy his pancakes, even covering them with an extra dollop of lemon and sugar as he further conversed with Seamus, Dean, and a few of the Gryffindor fifth years. However, the Quidditch team turned to look at Harry expectantly.

'Now we just have to wait,' he said finally, clearing his plate and lining up his cutlery. 'If Neville had any feelings for Ginny in the first place, the guilt trip we're sending him on should be a right old roller coaster. If not then…'

'Harry,' said Hermione sternly, getting back into her term-time mind. 'This is awfully risky, you know? I know this buys us time, but if Neville doesn't forgive her, or we don't find any way of proving him and those Slytherins wrong…' she narrowed her eyes in the direction of the Slytherin table, which was strangely absent of certain key players, 'Then we're up a creek without a paddle.'

'Shush,' said Ron, looking at Hermione in such a way that Harry couldn't help the smile spreading over his paled features. 'Trust him Herm. When has he let us down before, hey? It's the great Harry Potter! Dark Arts fighter extrodinaire! If he can't quash a stupid bit of gossip then no one can.'

'So are you with us, Ron?'

He shifted in his seat for a moment, glancing back at Hermione and nodded quietly. 'Yeah, count me in. But remember Neville's a mate as well. I believe you and all but I need to keep things up with him.' Hermione looked at the ground, impassive.

'Understood.' Nodded Harry, who now rose from the table. 'I think Madame Pomfrey has installed Ginny back in her room, so I'll go and check on her. See you at the match.'

As he disappeared out the same way as Ginny, George traced his footsteps with his eyes. 'Honestly, I don't believe that kid,' he sighed in awe. 'He even got the teachers in on it. I just hope for Merlin's sake it works…'

'It will…' said Fred, his voice wavering slightly to attack his otherwise unquestioned confidence. 'As long as we keep up the act. I'm too angry at Neville not to.'

'I think we just all need a bit of fun,' said Hermione thoughtfully. 'Last year was hard, next year will be harder still. And if we don't smooth over the cracks now, someone will seize every opportunity to rip them apart.'

*

The stands were packed out; the only seat available to Ron when he arrived as the whistle signalled the match's commencement was aside the ill-fated Longbottom. 

The look upon Ron's face at the thought of his companionship was confused. He tried to maintain a fierce objective, taking the seat but refusing to meet Neville's stare. His cheerful greetings were ignored, met by a passive Ron who focused so much on the action ahead of him that his eyes almost watered. Neville tried to break his gaze with a waved hand

'Ron? Are you with us?' he said half-mockingly, the brightest he'd sounded for days. Ron snapped top attention, something like condolences briefly flashing across his eyes before he launched into the required battle-banter.

'Look, Ron,' Neville continued, sounding genuine. 'I'm really sorry about all this Ginny business. I know she's your sister and all, but I think you know where I'm coming from…'

Ron reluctantly cut his down, the pained expression obvious on his face. 'We need to talk.'

Neville mistakenly took this comment in jest, willingly edging closer to Ron for conference.

'Neville…' he said quietly, with a mixture of suppressed anger and annoyance. 'You've hurt my sister beyond belief. You do know that mum is thinking of sending her to Beauxbatons?'

Neville nodded in acknowledgement. 'Probably for the best. At least her reputation won't follow.'

At this point, Ron genuinely responded. 'Reputation? Neville, you've really got with way out of proportion.' Then he lowered his voice with some vague attempt at malice. 'This isn't the place to discuss this. Ginny would never, and I mean, never, go along with a death-eater like Goyle. And at this rate, I'll have to resort to other… measures… to get that through to you.'

Neville flaked for a minute, a brief expression of bafflement forming on his rounded features.

Ron had to spell it out. 'You. Me.' He gulped apprehensively. 'Wizard's Duel. After the next Gryffindor match. Remember this is all your fault.'

And with that, Ron sighed heavily with the relief of delivering his burden before descending the stand, just in time for the capture of the snitch. As he disappeared into the crowd celebrating a stonking Ravenclaw victory, Neville felt a little dazed. There was certainly something amiss.

*

A/N: Dun dun DUN! Only one act to go, and will all be resolved? What do you think? Please skip along to the next part, and of you haven't read the play, please do. Otherwise I'll be a very sad little girlie. Shakespeare rocks.


	5. Act V

A/N: So here we are, last act and all the other stuff that is typical of a Shakespearean play. I hope you've enjoyed this Harry Potter take on Much ado, and still any queries should be directed in the general direction, believe it or not, of the additional author's note and that wonderful thing called reviews. They don't just look pretty, you know! This has been great to write, and thanks for reading. I love you! JJJJJ

Dis: JK owns the characters (And don't we love her for it?) Shakespeare owns the plot (Although at times its debatable… some people reckon everybody else wrote his stuff, but for the sake of this fic I'll ignore it) and I merely own the concept of putting two and two together. Its only because I wasn't feeling very inventive!

****

Much Ado about Nothing!

ACT V

Although the training tended to up the spirits a little, the team taking note of their narrow win and putting a hundred percent into every play, still a sense of doubt hung over the normally happy collective. Their spirits were not revived easily. The day after the Ravenclaw/Slytherin game, the whole team was undoubtedly giving it there all, but to no avail. Even Ron was slipping, Alicia being able to get round him on many occasion, the frustration obviously building in his face. Finally he let rip, jumping off his broom form quite a height and hitting the ground running, his Cleansweep seven following reluctantly as he took five on the front bench of the stands. He was soon joined by his teammates who were equally disillusioned. Harry went into captain mode.

'Come on, you lot!' he said suddenly, leaping to his feet Wood-style and addressing the troops. 'We can't get ourselves down like this!'

'But Harry…' George began, a little reluctantly 'The Slytherins have put together a really strong side. Even with that scumbag Malfoy. Even if we were on top form, it would be a tough match.'

'Look at the state we're in,' protested Katie Bell, the bandage on her head still necessary after the Grapefruit incident. 'I'm so dazed I can barely shoot straight. And even then Ron's letting every other shot get in.'

'I'm not!' said Ron, anger boiling up behind those large brown eyes as someone came as close as possible to insulting is masculinity. 'Most of those shots would be called up for fouls anyway.'

'That's if a bludger doesn't get you first, Katie' chirped in Fred. 'You're flying blind up there…'

'Hey!' Angelina entered the ring. 'You're a fine one to talk. Just take a look at yourself Weasley. I think that bat is used for hitting the bludgers, not for ornamental value…'

'QUIET!'

Harry's suddenly harsh voice echoed across the pitch in that early hour, effectively waking a flock of blackbirds that really had a death wish by nesting in the Whomping Willow. His teammates silenced immediately, looking startled in to the emerald eyes of their young captain, totally transfixed for an instant. For a second, his scar, that infamous, lightning bolt scar, seemed to shine out positively from his whitened face in the morning light. But only for an instant as he finally spoke again.

'See what this is doing to us!' he cried out on the edge of desperation. 'Whoever has decided to get under our skin had really succeeded, haven't they?' Some people nodded, ashamed. 'We shouldn't let them. That is exactly what they want. They want a distracted team. They want the Gryffindors to be on far from top form. Kick us when we're down. For Merlin's sake, we need to rise above it. Are you with me?'

But before he could get the resounding mutter of agreement he hoped for, another voice pierced the air of their early morning practise.

'Potter! Weasley! A moment please!'

It was Professor McGonagall. Harry groaned inwardly, preying that their head of house hadn't been witnessed to their mini-conflict. As she approached, the groan was finally released as he saw two small, jumpy figures trailing her across the pitch: The Creevys.

'Here comes trouble…' Harry vaguely heard Alicia muttering under her breath.

'Boy, boys…' said McGonagall as she finally reached the stands. 'This isn't such a productive looking training session now, is it?' They looked at the ground guiltily and went to resume play when McGonagall continued. 'But I'm afraid I must interrupt, as something has been brought to my attention that may explain your dismal performance against Hufflepuff.' George was about to launch into a formal complaint. 'No, Weasley, I meant tactically. You were very lucky to pull of the result. Certainly gave Professor Sprout something to gloat about.' She physically shuddered at the thought. 'Anyway, to business. I believe this will interest the young Mr Potter in particular. Follow me.'

Harry did so did so obligingly, leaving instructions for some chaser/beater practises as the Gryffindor seeker was removed form the training session. He trailed behind in McGonagall's shadow, lengthened astonishingly in the dawn while Colin and Dennis snapped excitedly at his heels, brimming with pride and achievement. It was beginning to get on Harry's pecks. Finally they climbed the main staircase, the halls still empty at this early hour and stepped into the Professor's office.

'Right,' she said sitting down behind he desk and giving Harry a look that was enough to shrink anyone in their seats. 'As I was saying, your Quidditch just wasn't up to scratch against Hufflepuff. You were very lucky.' Harry felt the heat rise in his face as he bowed his head in shame. He didn't like McGonagall's wrath at the best of times, and certainly not now when morale was at its lowest. McGonagall looked equally bleak. 'However, I think I man right to presume your attention was not on the pitch…'

Harry was relived not to have to explain further as a knock on the door interrupted their Professor.

'You wanted to see me Professor…'

Neville was now clearly seen, a little pale and uncertain in the rising sun that peaked behind the mountains outside McGonagall's window. However it was soon reddened as he clapped eyes on his fellow Gryffindor.

'You!' he growled in a voice that he clearly didn't own. 'What are you doing here?'

'I wouldn't be here if I'd known a…'

'Potter that's enough.' Snapped McGonagall, now focused on the other shaped approaching her door. Harry gave a yelp of surprise as Crabbe and Goyle, looking less beefy that usual, stumbled through the door perused by a scowling Filch. Colin and Dennis were almost bursting with anticipation. It got too much for the younger Creevy.

'It's like we told you Harry, at Breakfast before the Hufflepuff game…' 

Colin got in quicker 'Yeah, these two ruffians,' he said, shooting the moaning Slytherins a look of pure disdain. 'Were on a total sabotage mission. About to use the Quidditch pitch as a very large sick bucket. But it wasn't just that. These two were trying to wreak the whole tournament. Match fixing. Wouldn't surprise me if they were getting a backhand from all this lot. Devious little gits…'

Even this outburst failed to get a criticism from McGonagall. She sighed heavily and stared out the window, rapidly losing interest. Neville was getting annoyed.

'Look Colin, will this take very long? I've got important things to do.'

'Like what?' Harry snapped uncharacteristically, 'Start writing a gossip column for the Prophet?'

'Potter, I already warned you, that's enough,' said McGonagall absently. She looked back at the assembled crowd in front of her desk. 'I believe you have something to add, Goyle?'

'Erm yeah,' said the Slytherin, firmly feeling the rather large nudge in the back from Filch, gleaming with the satisfaction of using his manacles for once. 

'It's all Malfoy's fault!' said Crabbe, quickly to avoid the accusing finger. 'He made us do it!'

'Do what?' said Harry. 'This better be good…'

'Trick Longbottom into thinking Ginny Weasley was having a fling with me.'

Several things happened at once. Harry sighed with relief: his suspicious nature, for once, had been wrong, while Neville gasped hideously as it began to sink in. McGonagall was far from perplexed as she waved a hand for him to continue.

'Polyjuice potion miss. Draco, he used it on Millicent Bulstrode so Longbottom would think it was me and his bit up in the Owlery. I knew he was spying onus, but that's what Malfoy wanted. He thought it would distract the Gryffindors, you know? Stop them winning Quidditch and all. Only bloomin' chance the Slytherins have these days…'

'So that's what all the cerfuffle at breakfast before the Hufflepuff match was?' asked McGonagall. Goyle sadly nodded, his head hanging low.

'Draco's going to kill me…' he muttered.

'I think, Goyle, that is the least of your problems. Out of dormitories out of hours. Illegal use of a restricted potion, sabotage of the tournament. You're looking at detention in the largest sense of the word. Potter, Longbottom,' she now turned to the Gryffindors. 'I hope that now resolves for differences. You are free to go.' Despite Neville's sheer dismay that was now plastered all over his sickened face, McGonagall maintained an unusual twinkle in her eye that Harry thought was only reserved for Dumbledore. The inner circle was obviously in deep communication. As the three of them stepped out into the hall, leaving Crabbe and Goyle to their related punishments, the Weasley twins came bouncing us the corridor.

'What happened Harry?' said George eagerly, looking the brightest he had for days.

'We were right,' he said, glancing sideways at a shamefaced Neville. 'Ginny was framed. Draco and his munchkins cooked up a polyjuice conspiracy that had us all knocked for six.'

'Hope you feel really good about this, Longbottom…' said Fred, looking fiercely at the fallen Neville. 'You owe Ginny a big apology. And us for that matter.' He glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, now being led off toward their common room by a fuming McGonagall. 'How did those two brainless bimbos pull it off?'

It was time for Neville to face reality, looking at Fred and George sadly. 'Draco gave Millicent Bulstrode the Polyjuice treatment before she went to meet up with Goyle. That's who I saw in the North tower…'

'You mistook Millicent Bulstrode for Ginny?' said George in disgust, curling his nose as if the words were only just sinking in. 'That ruttish, sour-faced harpy mixed up with my sister? You really need your head read, mate. I think this is a case for Professor Trelawney…'

'I know!' Neville cried out desperately, looking pathetically depressed under the glares of the boys. 'I know. What I've done to Ginny is inexcusable. I just overreacted, you know? I really liked her.' He sniffed gruesomely 'And I still do. The last place I want her to be is Beauxbatons.'

'Bit too late for that, Neville…' said Fred, shaking his head. 'She's already left. Mum sent her to stay at the Chateaux for the rest of the summer so she can pick up some French.'

'You mean she's never coming back?' Neville whimpered.

The Weasleys nodded as Neville sat down in shock.

'Oh god, what have I done?' he muttered into his hands. 'What can I do to make it up to you guys? Anything, you name it, as long as it doesn't involve Snape, a bucket full of soapy frogs and red lacy underwear…' he shuddered at the thought. Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

'No, nothing like that,' he managed to get out before laughter took real hold of him. 'But some proper apologies are a long time coming.'

'Not just to us…' said George, taking his vengeance to another level. 'To everyone. All this stuff hasn't helped morale for the Quidditch tournament or my sister's reputation in this place. Everyone needs to know about it….'

'Tomorrow,' said Fred suddenly. 'Breakfast. Perfect.'

Neville looked petrified at the very thought, but nodded. 'It's the least I deserve.'

'An apology to Mrs Weasley wouldn't go amiss.' Said Harry suddenly, to be met with confused stared from the woman's sons, 'I'm led to believe she's popping into Hogsmeade tomorrow, and I'm sure she won't say no to a Millywater in the three broomsticks to hear your apologies.' 

Neville gulped again. 'Fair enough.' He said, before saying his goodbyes and skulking in the direction of the Gryffindor tower looking very shamed-faced indeed. The twins turned to Harry for the expected explanation, only to be confronted by a raised eyebrow.

'The Slytherins aren't the only ones who can concoct a decent polyjuice potion…' he said mysteriously. The plot thickened.

*

Ron angrily threw another piece of parchment into the fire-free hearth as he picked up his quill yet again. Not that the crumpled paper actually landed in the grate: Instead it joined its companions in a little pile surrounding the fireplace, rapidly turning the floor of the Gryffindor common room into a snow scene from a Christmas time. He failed to notice Parvati Patil come through the portrait hole and sneak up behind him.

'Suffering from writer's block there, Ron?' she asked innocently. The voice made him jump to such an extent that he blotted the paper, resulting in another screwed up piece of parchment flying across the room in the vague direction of the fire. This was why he was a keeper, not a chaser. He glared angrily at Parvati as she leaned across his shoulder to examine his spidery scrawl. She giggled.

'So it's true then?' she said with a raised eyebrow of amusement 'The eternal bachelor has finally submitted to the charms of the tower clever-clogs?'

'Look,' Ron said, getting more and more annoyed. 'If you're not going to be of any help then could you leave me to it? This is difficult enough as it is…'

'Come on, let me have a look…' and before he could protest, Parvati had snatched his quill and parchment and was examining it with a critical eye. She sighed heavily and shook her head. 'And what's this supposed to be?'

'Erm… poetry?' Ron muttered, his ears burning as he spoke. Parvati looked flabbergasted.

'Looks like you're in need of some inspiration, there.' She tossed her hair back over her shoulder as Ron cottoned on to what she was implying.

'Oh, yeah right Patil,' he said in his familiar tone of sarcasm. 'The lady in question will really swoon when I start droning on about her talents in divination…'

Parvati didn't look hurt in the slightest. 'I just thought it might spurn Seamus on a bit. That boy needs a good kick up the…'

'Don't tell me he hasn't come to his senses yet?' she cast her eyes downward. 'Don't play yourself down, Parvati. Just be patient. Seamus will come round eventually… they always do.'

'God, she's turned you into a right old romantic, hasn't she?' Parvati replied with a note of disbelief in her voice. 'And I bet it would send you into a right panic to know she was right behind me when I was coming up the main staircase…'

'What?' he stuttered, automatically sweeping up his papers as the footsteps outside began to increase in volume as they approached. He consequently split his inkpot and uttered a word that would not get Mrs Weasley's approval. Parvati giggled.

'Aww, you're so cute when you're flustered!'

She then disappeared up the staircase as Hermione stumbled into the common room. Ron smiled painfully, trying to wipe his hands clean of purple ink on his already splattered robes as Hermione came over to his table.

'Heard you wanted a word?' she said, sitting on the table in front of him.'

'Yeah, I just wanted to ask…'

'I think you'll find that's about six.' She moved to leave. 'Gone over your word limit a bit there. On the other hand…' she said mysteriously, 'I'm somehow intrigued to stay, if only to find out if anything has occurred as a result of our last conversation?'

Ron immediately looked crestfallen as the topic turned to his impending duel with Neville. He was really beginning to lose the stomach for it. He sighed as she looked at him expectantly.

'Yeah, it's all sorted. Nothing to worry about. Now for your part of the bargain…'

He began to lean forward as she jumped off the table away from him. He was getting more than a bit annoyed as she tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for more details.

'Alright, alright…' he ran a hand absently through his already ruffled hair. 'I had a few words at the Ravenclaw/Slytherin match. He knows the deal, and the ball is firmly in his court. Satisfied?' Her features began to soften so he seized the chance for more pleasant talk. 'Now, what is intriguing me. Miss Granger, is what has caused such a turn around in your dealing with the wonderful moi?'

Hermione smirked. 'Nothing and everything. And the sane part of my brain is so convinced that the rest is mentally incapable of rational thought that the bed is already booked at St. Mungo's. It's negotiating a divorce right now. So come on then,' she said, stepping forward again, 'why do I seem to be having such an effect on your sleep patterns?'

At this, she glanced at the ever-deepening dark circles under Ron's eyes. He smirked back. 'Don't think this insomnia is voluntary, missy.' He said, waggling a finger ferociously 'The insane part of my brain seems to have the monopoly on business hours. Don't think I'm enjoying it…'

'Aww,' she said sarcastically, 'Poor little Ronniekins can't sleep without his teddy bear… or do I mean a big, hairy spider? Do you need me to get the insect repellent?'

Ron shuddered involuntarily, but then couldn't suppress the laughter that was now taking its grip. 'Honestly, Hermione, we can't even be civil to each other peacefully, can we?'

'No, I suppose not,' she replied. Then Ron's face suddenly became serious. It didn't suit him.

'How's Ginny?'

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. 'Suitably depressed. 'She just wants this over and done with. We all do.' She hung her head and Ron suddenly felt a wave of concern wash over him.

'How are you holding up?'

She shook her head. 'I don't know whether I'll be able to keep it up much longer, I…'

But their conversation was interrupted by an excited Lavender almost falling backwards onto the floor of the common room, tumbling as she went and only just recovering to her feet. 

'Lavender, are you alright?' asked Hermione, rushing to her side in concern.

'Yeah, yeah I'm fine…' she replied, a little dazed. 'Everything's fine. It's the Slytherins… Crabbe and Goyle, you know, Malfoy's cronies? They've admitted that they faked the whole Ginny episode…' she panted a little out of breath from her race for the tower. 'Ginny didn't cheat on Neville at all! It was all some plan to sabotage the Quidditch tournament!'

Ron's face lit up for the first time in days as relief began to flood over him. So that meant…

'Has anyone told Ginny?' she said immediately, nearly screeching with happiness.

'No, I was just about to…'

Hermione cut Lavender short. 'Don't worry, we'll go and tell her.' And at this point she made an urgent dash for the stairs as Lavender delivered her news to the rest of the common room. Hermione then turned to look at Ron, whose face was a wonderful mixture of bafflement and delight, and held out her hand.

'Are you coming then, you great oaf?'

His smile ran rampant across his freckled features. 'Well, I suppose I could, considering its you and all…'

She then proceeded to walk back over to the table, lift him by the scruff of his robes and frog march him up the stairs, both members of this entourage unable to conceal their manic grins.

*

The atmosphere in the common room was very odd that night, a mixture of elation at the disproving of Neville, yet at the same time an air of impending Doom regarding the apparently irreversible fate of Ginny and that dratted Slytherin match just a few days away. Even though the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw battle for third and fourth place looked set to cause much amusement and jollification all round, the sight of the downtrodden Neville did little for the Gryffindor's motivation.

'Don't you think we're being a little harsh on him, Harry?' said Ron quietly as the lonely figure stalked up the stairs with a yawning Seamus a while before everyone was due to retire. 'We could just go and get Ginny now and the whole thing would be sorted…'

Hermione delivered Ron a quick kick in the shins. Just because he was off the hook regarding the Neville duel thing didn't mean everything else was dandy. 'Ron, it'll take more than a few ill-spoken words from the Slytherin's to get Neville and Ginny back on track. The whole point of this façade is to get everything back full circle.'

'Hermione's right…' said Harry, staring into the fading embers of a dimly lit fire. The weather was beginning to break in preparation for the on coming autumn. 'We haven't just fooled Neville, we've tricked the whole school. And it's the whole school to which we've got to deliver the resolution.'

'I still don't understand what my mother has got to do with anything…' said George out of the darkness, as he stood up and prepared to leave for bed.

Harry didn't answer, merely allowed his emerald eyes to flash in the dim light as he waggled his eyebrows, grinning to himself. 'That's between me and Ginny.'

'Suit yourself.'

The boys and Hermione then headed for bed. It was going to be a long couple of days.

*

Neville's apology was indeed humbly delivered. During the announcements that usually accompanied the bacon and eggs, he stood aloft and admitted his sins with the utmost honour and politeness, Neville truly revealing the spectacular reason as to why he was sorted into Gryffindor. When the situation called for it, he never failed to deliver. 

Neville didn't even look down at his feet, which were shifting nervously side to side as he spoke. Instead he focused his eyes right across the hall as the audience sat mesmerised by his wonderfully put apology, explaining his behaviour and how sorry he was that Ginny wasn't able to be here to celebrate her liberation with him. The regret he held was painfully obvious. 

'Thank you, Neville,' said Dumbledore once Neville had finished, face crimson with guilt as he hurried to finish his beans. 'You certainly hold that far-reaching degree of chivalry that defines your house. Godric would have been proud.'

Neville blushed even further as the compliment was laid upon him, harsh eyes now sympathetic at his mistake and acceptance of it. The mummers gradually rose back to a vague sense of normality, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs muttering between themselves excitedly at the on coming match. For the Gryffindors however, and Harry in particular their minds were certainly in different locations...

*

As Harry approached the lake on their last trip for Hogsmeade, the day before the final Slytherin conflict, he felt a slightly timid tug on his sleeve and was most surprised to turn and find Ron standing there, looking a little shamed faced. Harry grinned.

'Something eating you there, Ronniekins?'

Ron smirked at the use of his all-time-favourite nickname. 'Nothing I can't handle Potter… with a little bit of help from my friends mind…'

'If this includes wearing a pink ballerina tutu and army boots you can count me out…'

Ron laughed. No! nothing like that. I just need a favour.' He glanced nervously to the gaggle of third year girls ahead of him and lowered his voice. 'Do you think you could out in a good word for me with Hermione?' he looked pale with the effort. 'I'm thinking of asking her out…'

Harry guffawed out loud, the greatest amount of noise he'd made for days that caused a flock of birds across the lake to leap into startled flight. He quickly regained control.

'Oh, so you're admitting it then? The eternal bachelor no more, eh Ron?'

'Shut up, Harry' Ron replied harshly, looking more than embarrassed. 'I just want to know if she thinks, you know, the same that I do before I put my huge foot in it…'

'Yeah, sure!' Harry replied in a mockingly jolly fashion. 'Crazy about you mate. Go for it.'

Ron looked most relived and so skipped ahead to join his brothers.

Later on, Harry found himself sitting alone outside the three broomsticks, despite most of the school demanding barrel after barrel of Madame Rosmerta butterbeer on the warm summer day. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the wooden table top, the picnic table a little unsteady on the uneven ground, lilting slightly to one side giving his drink a drunken slant against the glass. Ron, Hermione and the twins were still battling to get served when Harry's visitor finally bestowed him with his presence.

'Hello Harry,' said Neville, looking out right petrified as he joined Harry at the wonky table.

'Do you want a drink, Neville?' asked Harry politely. 'I think Ron's nearly at the front of the queue now…' he craned his neck to look over the heads of the crowd. 'Ah. No, a little second year just nipped in front of him. That poor lad is really going to get it later…'

Neville couldn't help but let out a little grin, which all too soon evaporated at the speed of Madame Rosmerta's ice stock. He let out a shuddery sigh.

'Is she here yet?'

'Mrs Weasley?' Harry replied. 'Yeah, she just popped up to Zonko's to see whether she could catch the terrors, oops, I mean Fred and George.' He grinned while shrugging his shoulders mischievously. 'But here she comes now…'

Harry could have sworn Neville let out a little yelp of dread as the formidable Mrs Weasley began he approach, waving merrily as she walked down the road and failing to notice Harry's unfavourable companion. The plump woman's kind face remained so, even as she sat down at the table and heaved her shopping onto the table.

'Ofph, that's better,' she said, putting her purse back in her bag. 'I've finally got some more floo power, Harry. Do you know how hard it is to get that stuff sometimes? I…'

Then her eyes lay on Neville, who was trying to unsuccessfully find behind Harry's pint glass. She frowned for a minute, a look eerily like that of her only daughter as Ron and the others silently emerged with their drinks, approaching the table with caution.

'And you must be Neville.' Mrs Weasley said shortly. 'Ginny has said a lot about you, sunshine…' Neville gulped further, but his eyes didn't leave Mrs Weasley's face, unsure whether the nickname was out of fondness or malice. 'You really put your foot in it there, didn't you?'

'Yes, Mrs Weasley, I…'

'And now she's gone to Beauxbatons,' she continued, as of desperate to get it out. Ron's lot was edging closer, the queues outside the pub now turning with interest. 'You know it's very difficult to pull her out now, especially as their term starts early and…'

'I'll go too.'

'Sorry?'

Neville's chest swelled again as he took a sharp intake of breath. 'When I go back up to school, I'll talk to Dumbledore about transferring. What I did to Ginny was completely wrong, and I can't believe now that I let those Slytherins wind me up rotten. If I ever catch up with that Malfoy I swear I'll do the jelly legs curse on him…'

'But Neville,' interrupted Hermione, no longer able to maintain the stunned silence. 'Last time you tried to do that Seamus had to walk around with green feet for a week…'

'I don't care!' Neville sounded extremely desperate now. 'I just want to make up for what I've done, Mrs Weasley. Do you think…' he sighed again, 'You could tell Ginny I miss her?'

A slight ripple went across Mrs Weasley's face as her scowl turned to sly amusement. 'Well, I'm not sure about that Neville…'

Neville cast his eyes downward as he felt his mission fail when it happened. Harry actually stood back from the table, expectant as the twins, Ron and Hermione shot him extremely puzzled looks. But soon their attention was back on Mrs Weasley. She was beginning to shrink: Her rounded features slimming before their eyes, the lengthening hair and the slendering shoulders causing Neville's eyes to grow rounder than his face ever was. Then came the colour: Starting from the top, it cascaded across the greying hair to become a violent shade of red, the eyes twinkling blue in a single blink as the transformation was complete. She stood up

'You can tell her yourself.' Finished Ginny, letting out a minuscule sigh of satisfaction.

It was as if the whole school, or those assembled at the three broomsticks at least, turned to stare, mouths wide open as most pointed and gaped. But for Neville, it was as if there was no one else in the world. 

'Ginny?' he whispered, as if not daring to believe it. 'Is that you?'

'Almost in the flesh,' she said cheekily, delight becoming a smudge on her lips. 'I've been up in the Gryffindor tower the whole time, Neville. Harry sneaked me out here under the invisibility cloak. Managed to bribe the last of the polyjuice syrup from Crabbe and Goyle, adding one of mum's hairs that she so lovingly placed in that hideous howler.' She cringed at the thought as Neville raised himself to join her, standing face to face in serious thought. 'A part of me died that morning in the great hall Neville. I suppose it was that ever-lasting strand of childhood that is still convinced that You-Know-Who is merely a fairy tale. That people get together and have white satin weddings and never argue or get mixed up…'

Neville nodded, sadly, now taking one of Ginny's hands in his, She didn't pull it away.

'I know first hand that world doesn't exist any more, if indeed it ever did. We're on a different plain now. We all are. And so in this world there are much better things to fight over than a major case of mistaken identity…'

And with that Neville whooped in a style that was totally unlike his own and almost suffocated the poor defenceless Ginny as he swept down to give her a long overdue embrace. Everyone smiling and crowd's attention away, Harry suddenly remembered something. He stepped forward.

'Ron? Don't you have something to ad to the proceedings?'

Blushing furiously, Ron pushed himself forward and took centre stage.

'Well, Hermione,' he said embarrassingly. 'Just to confirm a few things, in front of everyone, I mean. Right.' He raised his shoulders. 'Do you want to, you know…'

'No, I don't know, Ron. Spit it out will you?'

'Yes you do!' he said, voice quavering slightly as the tip of his ears went pink. 'Harry, Fred and George all said, on the night after the Ravenclaw match, that you fancied the pants off me! They said Ginny had told them!'

The penny dropped as Hermione suddenly looked horrified. 'I did no such thing! Parvati and Lavender swore blind that you'd been telling Seamus you were head over heels about me!'

'But why would I talk to Seamus about my love life?' he shook his head in disbelief that he fell for a trick so simply devised. They looked at each other, wide-eyed, gasping.

'So you mean?…'

Both of them swung round and stared menacingly at the twins.

'Fred, George?'

'I think dear brother…' Fred muttered out the side of his mouth, 'This is our queue to RUN!'

And both of them dashed out of sight quicker than an exodus from Snape's potions class. However, before the scowls of disapproval could re-establish themselves on Ron and Hermione's faces, Harry stepped forward, rather mischievously.

'So I take it this is all wrapped up?'

'Well, yes, I suppose…' spluttered Ron.

'Well, would you care to explain this then?' he reached into his friend's back pocket and pulled out a bundle of parchments, wrapped up lovingly in a red ribbon. Harry shifted through them. Ron's ears went bright red as he tried to snatch them back from Harry, forgetting about the sheer speed of his best friend's reflexes. He wasn't the youngest seeker in a century for nothing. Hermione read them over his shoulder with a mild look upon her face, something between sheer horror and amazement.

'Looks as though your hand has betrayed you there, mate…' Harry said, barely able to conceal his hysteria as he read Ron's feeble attempts at romantic literature.

'Harry,' he muttered through clenched teeth, 'you'll die for this…'

'Ah, but my darling brother, perhaps you'd better have a gander at this!'

Ginny promptly delved into the back pocket of Hermione's robes, causing her expression to go instantly from amusement to horror as a similar package of parchment was revealed. She threw it over to Ron who briefly scanned Hermione's elegant handwriting, baffled. 'Something you want to share with us Herm?'

'I…I…' she stuttered. Well, that's a first, though Harry. Hermione stuck for words.

'I think, said Neville, coming up behind them and sliding an arm round Ginny's waist, 'You two need to have a little chat.'

The gang looked on expectantly as Ron approached Hermione, eyes down and ears burning. She stood there, an eyebrow arched in defence as she crossed her arms. But she failed to conceal the sly, mischievous smile that was edging across her lips. He sighed wearily.

'Well,' he said, half mockingly in his usual blundering manner, 'I suppose we'd better, erm… you know…' he gulped nervously, 'Well, I can't leave you all by yourself with everyone else pairing off, it just wouldn't be right… and you're not that bad, and…'

'Ron?'

'Yeah?'

'Shut up.'

And with that she stepped forward and kissed him, his look of bemusement melting at the instant she touched his lips. She was vaguely aware of some people cheering in the background, but she was too engrossed in her new recreational activity to care. When they finally broke the embrace, Ron was grinning from ear to ear, hugging her playfully as they turned to face the repercussions.

'Get in there, little bro!' said George, now sneaking back round the corner to revel in the success of their scheming. Ron waggled a menacing finger.

'Don't think you'll get away with this, you two!' he smirked, unable to conceal his glee, 'Just you wait! I'll, I'll…'

'Oh give it up Ron!' Harry said, patting Ron on the back in a congratulatory manner. 'You'll never defeat the human bludgers. They're marauders in the making.'

Ron suddenly looked panic-stricken, removing his arm from Hermione's waist to examine his watch. 'The Quidditch match tomorrow! I almost forgot! We'd better get back and get a bit more practice in!'

And with that, Ron led a now maddeningly laughing Harry, Fred and George down the road away from the Three Broomsticks and back towards Hogwarts

*

This was the match. As Harry strode onto the pitch in the midst of the biggest turn out Hogwarts had seen for a while, he couldn't help but allow the usual set of nerves to settle in his stomach. Nevertheless, His mood had certainly been lightened by the previous turn of events, and was totally prepared to lock antlers with the merciless Malfoy.

He shook hands with Flint, still captain of the Slytherin team, only at Madame Hooch's request: He had the horrible feeling the burly Keeper would have taken any opportunity to squash his catching hand. Harry had tried to be a pleasant as possible, but with Malfoy lurking behind him with a flash of unjustified triumph across his face, Harry was beginning to feel it necessary to knock the death-eater's son down a peg or two. Giving his team one last encouraging glance, they stepped into formation and pushed off by the sound of Hooch's shrill whistle.

'And there off! As captain Potter sails effortlessly into the air on his Firebolt- still unrivalled in registered bench tests by the ministry standards department despite the claims of… ' the microphone was covered for a minute while an angry muffled voice raged in the background. But Lee Jordan soon regained control. 'Yes, sorry professor! Anyway, as I was saying, Gryffindor making a promising start to what looks like an exciting match. Slytherin now in possession, intercepted beautifully by Bell as she streaks up the other side of the pitch…I wish…'

Harry listened intently as Katie Bell initiated another well-executed tactic and preceded to score. Ten-nil to Gryffindor. However as Angelina Johnson continued to make it twenty and Ron looked as of he could file his nails, Malfoy crept up on Harry's tail.

'Hey! Potty! Got an audition with the Moscow State Ballet yet?'

Harry took little notice, allowing a little inward grin as Malfoy continued the tirade and he continued to search for the golden glimmer of the snitch.

'Such a shame, you know,' he bellowed, keeping close to Harry's tail, 'I think you're wasting your talent up here, Potter. Much better spent being an agony aunt, considering what a wreak all your friend's love lives are.'

Harry gritted his teeth as he heard Alicia Spinnet sink another one for Gryffindor. Thirty points up. The snitch was no where to be seen. He was aware of a slight groan from Lee Jordan as the Slytherins out one past Ron in retaliation, Ron spitting angrily at the ground for letting one in. Lee Jordan was livid.

'Despite the referee's complete blindness to the, oh, couple of hundred fouls, in the run up to that goal, Gryffindor 's lead has been cut, 30-10. No I lie. Make that 40-10, thanks to the combined effort's of the Weasley's bludger work and Johnson's aim. Nice one Angelina!'

Obviously McGonagall was just an enraged as she made no interjection to Lee's attack upon Madame Hooch's referee skills. Although her minor retaliation came in the form of a penalty awarded to Slytherin for George's over ambitious bludger battering (i.e. mistaking the Slytherin Chaser for the large black blob), Ron had taken heed of his previous defeat and deflected it effortlessly.

'Go Ron!' Harry yelled across the pitch to his teammate, who beamed brightly in his direction and then waved at the stands. Harry could've have sworn he saw a distant Hermione blush. But suddenly he felt a rush of wind across his nose. Time to get back to the job.

He turned swiftly away from the snitch with the hope of distracting Malfoy who was still trailing him like Colin Creevy with a camera, yet again taking inspiration from Krum's Wronski Feint toward the Slytherin posts.

'Look at that boy go!' he heard Lee Jordan screaming silently in the background, 'He's like a bolt from the blue… Malfoy's trailing behind as everyone else watches in amazement… another goal for Gryffindor…'

Harry had almost reached the ground directly in front of the goal posts, and knew Malfoy was going to see his bluff. It was now or never.

He loosened his grip on his Firebolt, so allowing himself to hang upside down for a second before impact- he felt the crowd's inward gasp as the pitch rushed up towards him and a slight pause of bafflement in Malfoy behind him- and then he turned. Merely feet from the ground, he did a 270 degree turn in a zero turning circle to race off parallel to the floor, diving neatly under the Slytherin keeper and zipping along merely feet above the ground, swooping up the snitch from it's resting place in the centre of the pitch. 

The crowd erupted, a raucous mixture of astonishment and pride as Harry silently rose, snitch gripped tightly in his sweaty palm. Lee Jordan had even been stunned into silence as McGonagall could be heard to bellow the final score: 190-10 to Gryffindor, and the cup along side it. He began to sink slowly as the rest of the team gathered round, people flooding onto the pitch, grinning at the sight that beheld him. Harry noticed happily that Malfoy was being reprimanded by both Madame Hooch and Professor McGonagall, being presented with a little memento of his own: What looked like a month's worth of detention slips. So there is some justice in the world. He tried to catch Ron's attention to push his eye to the ultimate in revenge, but he was already ignoring various people slapping his back for his perfect debut, finally finding Hermione in the crowd to deliver a long overdue embrace. He caught sight of Neville and Ginny, jumping up and down excitedly, screaming to their heart's content in light of the victory, all misendevors forgotten. Finally he remembered the tiny snitch, beating wildly in his fingertips as he finally released it, doing its own tiny loop-da-loop before flying off to a safer part of the pitch. There was going to be one hell of party. 

*

The presentation ceremony was as joyous occasion as it ever was at Hogwarts. Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs joined in, delighted that the Slytherins weren't back in the game as any Quidditch victory generally made them unbearable. Dumbledore had given a rather ironic speech about the high level of sportsmanship he'd been witness to in this round of the battle of the houses, even though the Gryffindors exchanged glances as they thought of Malfoy scrubbing bed pans in the hospital wing. Dumbledore' eyes twinkled in Harry's direction at the mention of this point. Harry held on to the notion that his beloved Headmaster was more aware of what occurred in his school than anyone gave him credit for. Soon, his speech of assessment came to and end, but he raised his hand to maintain the peace.

'Before I present the cup to the winning team, there are a few serious pints that need to be addressed.' The hall fell deathly silent as all eyes fell upon the professor. 'I cannot tell you enough that we have a difficult year ahead. Tomorrow, you will all return to your families for the remainder of the holidays. But when you return I promise you I will not keep anything form you regarding the threat that has cast a shadow over the proceedings. But…' the old man looked more alive, more assertive than he ever had, filling Harry's chest with a form of suppressed hope and bravery, 'we need to be on our guard. We need to be on our toes. The Dark Lord did not attempt to enter the ground in his previous incarnation, but that doesn't mean that he'll maintain the same exception. Dark times are ahead. But I have an everlasting belief that my pupils, Hogwart's pupils, will lead the way and set an example to the members of our community. We do not plan to be taken down easily. We will fight. A muggle in a time of war once said every man will do his duty. And I have every faith that you will too.'

The hall remained silent for a moment, as Dumbledore successfully cast a shadow of reality back over his pupils in light of the euphoria that had eclipsed it. A slight mummer of disapproval came from the Slytherin table, but the rest of the school generally ignored it as they raucously agreed with their ageing headmaster. The smile returned on the old man's face as he turned to pick up the golden cup.

'Now, back to business!' he cried, turning back to face an audience of eager faces. 'To present the Quidditch cup! Would the Gryffindor team please come up here?'

Harry immediately rose form his seat with his team-mates, Ron right behind him as they approached the raised platform that housed the teacher's table. The cheers reached deafening levels as he finally stepped up toward Dumbledore, Alicia, Angelina, Katie and the Weasley twins beaming with pride, as he held the trophy aloft to the loudest noise the enchanted ceiling was ever witness to. The Quidditch cup was back with the Gryffindors. 

The feast in the Great hall was little in comparison to what awaited Harry and his friends when they finally reached the haven of the Fat Lady. She was already in a merry mood, little lions painted onto her rosy cheeks as she cheered like a football fan, singing 'Glory glory Gryffindor!' loudly into the hall and waving a red and gold scarf aloft. Harry couldn't help grinning as he muttered Wronski Feint as the password, allowing him past into the blaze of red and gold that normally held the common room.

He didn't know where he got the energy from, but a slight explosion in the direction of George Weasley and a box of Filibuster fireworks was probably the culprit as he felt a sudden surge of effort drive him straight into the celebrating mob.

'And here's the star!' Dean Thomas was yelling to anyone who could hear. 'Harry Potter, seeker and captain extrodinare! If he isn't playing for England by the time we hit our seventh year, I'll eat a pair of Dobby's socks!'

'I'll have the tomato sauce on standby, Dean!' Harry joked modestly. He did the rounds for a bit before finding Ron, totally worn out and stretched across the sofa up by the common room fire place. He sat down opposite the lanky red-head and sighed heavily. 

'Well, that's Quidditch done for another year,' he said mournfully. Ron looked indignant.

'What on earth do you mean old boy?' he said, imitating the style of his older siblings and grinning from ear to ear. 'Harry Potter captain. My dear bean, this adventure's only just begun!'

'Well,' Harry said mischievously, 'I could always get you lot up at five tomorrow morning for a quick training session for that Hufflepuff match at the end of November…'

Ron groaned and threw a cushion at Harry, who ducked it effortlessly as it sailed passed his ear and successfully squashed Dennis Creevy. Ron looked serious for a minute.

'Harry,' he said solemnly all of a sudden. 'I just want to say thank you.'

'For what?' Harry muttered absently, amused by the sight of Dennis struggling to get up from the weight of the sofa cushion. 'What did I do?'

'You know…' Ron nodded over at Hermione, who was talking heatedly with Alicia. 'For giving me and Herm a nudge in the right direction. We'd never have got there otherwise…'

'So this is what it's come to then, mate?' Harry said, raising an eyebrow. 'Ronald Weasley, no longer most eligible bachelor of the Gryffindor tower? Who will the ladies swoon over now?'

Ron smirked. 'Well, life's odd like that, isn't it?' Harry nodded sincerely. 'These days, you never know what's round the corner. Anything can happen and probably will. Especially round here…'

'Definitely.' Harry agreed adamantly. 'Some things never change.'

'But some things do, Harry…' he said distantly as Hermione began to approach. 'Some things do… But what are we going to do about you? Who's Mr-Single now?'

'Oh, no!' Harry laughed, vacating his seat. 'Don't even think about it. I'm perfectly happy as I am, thank you very much. I've got my medical need to defeat all on coming evil, and Quidditch of course,' he added with a wink as the now present Hermione rolled her eyes at all the hassle the wizard sport had caused. 'I think I'll be alright.'

And with that, he went in search for a canary cream to plant on an unsuspecting Neville.

'Well,' Hermione sighed as she sat down next to Ron on the chair by the fire. 'That really was much ado about nothing.' 

'Nothing!' Ron roared affectionately, attempting to look outraged but failing as the disbelieving smile spread across his rosy features. 'Nothing? Herm, I would hardly call the Gryffindor's maintaining their winning steak at Quidditch nothing!' 

Hermione couldn't stop herself grinning stupidly, Ron's smile being hideously infectious as she took his hand and led him back into the fray. Another year at Hogwarts had just begun.

____________________

A couple of thank yous…

Ta to my mate Claire for being so supportive throughout the pure and utter oddness that are English lessons with Mrs Hale. I hope you enjoy reading this and you never know, it might even help! I predict act 5, scene 2, conversation between Beatrice and Benedick for the summer exam. Let's test those divination skills…

To Laura of the Timpani, the original speaker of Ron's little words of wisdom! Say hi to willy the whimp for me!

All my email buddies at HPFWA for blocking up my inbox on a regular basis…

The Stiv… the woman who took us to bard country. Cool dude.

And of course, good old Will Shakespeare. He is the Don. Pedro, that is.

But who could forget the delightful JK! Three cheers, hip hip hooray!

PS I don't know if you Americans are aware of this, but a national radio station in Britain (namely the glory of radio four) are doing a radio reading of the whole of philosopher's/sorceror's stone on Boxing day, by Stephen Fry, the guy who played Oscar Wilde in that bio-film a few years back. Unabridged. No commercial breaks. 8 hours and 22 minutes of pure bliss. Be extremely jealous and so naturally I won't be answering the phone that day! Whoo hoo!


End file.
